


The Attorneys Paralegal

by Wandering_Willow



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-08-19 21:25:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16542539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wandering_Willow/pseuds/Wandering_Willow
Summary: Rumford Gold is a demanding attorney for Mills & Mills, constantly terrorizing his paralegals until they quit. He meets Belle, hoping to make her his next victim. What he didn't plan on was befriending her instead.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Long time lurker, finally coming out from the shadows and first time posting here. It's a slow start on purpose, but it'll pick up! It's already finished, so it's just a matter of refining at this point. Enjoy!

 

Rumford Gold analyzed himself in the mirror, adjusting the navy-blue silk tie adorning his neck. It was a nice contrast to his black suit as he buttoned his suit jacket, looking every bit the seasoned attorney that he was. He had been practicing for over twenty years, honing the cold, calculating gaze that stared back at him.

He knew what they called him. Crocodile. Snake. Some even swore his eyes turned into slits when cornering his prey in the courtroom, or that the cane was not for walking, but to beat down anyone who got in his way. He had improved his walking to the point where the cane looked pointless—almost. To a trained eye, he leaned a tad too heavy to his right, giving away the only weakness he had.

He grabbed the cane, walked through his house and out the door to his garage. He double checked that he had locked his door before he started his black Cadillac and left the dark, two-story house.

The drive to work was the same as always this time of year—packed highways, angry drivers and dark skies. He could have hired a driver, but that meant more people knowing his business, more people he couldn’t trust. He could always count on himself, of that he was certain. People were fickle and feeble minded. They didn’t know what they wanted or who they themselves were.

He was one of the few who arrived early. He was a stickler for punctuality. There was a small list of excuses he would accept as reasons for tardiness. Weather and children were not one of them. Especially with technology being what it was, there was no excuse for anyone to be surprised that it was snowing or raining.

He passed by several desks and offices on the way to his window office overlooking the city. Mills & Mills owned the building, and rented out the rest of the floors it didn’t need to fill. It was a powerful firm with locations all over the world. He himself had transferred from their firm in Glasgow years ago, hoping for a fresh start in a new place. Upstate New York wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t congested like New York City and he could keep his distance from others, which was always important.

Once his computer was up and running, he started sifting through his emails, the important ones and the ones that could wait a day, maybe two. He wasn’t sure how many he had gone through before he noticed the office was bustling with people, sleepy eyed and resigned to working another day. He checked his watch, seeing it was ten after eight.

His lips screwed into a scowl as he walked to stand in front of his door, looking towards the desk outside of it. “She called me last night—crying I might add—saying she quit. Congratulations. Third one this month.”

His secretary folded her arms and raised an eyebrow at him. “I don’t suppose I could talk you into becoming my new paralegal?”

His red-lipped secretary laughed. “No chance in Hell, Mr. Gold.”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The only reason she could speak to him somewhat casually was because she was engaged to one of the attorneys. She also didn’t cry every time he yelled at her, although he would get an earful from her fiancé when it was particularly bad. The only reason he allowed such a thing was because Mr. Nolan was perhaps the only person in the office who would willingly talk to him. Not that he needed friends, but unfortunately in the workplace it helped if you had at least one. Since David Nolan was not only a great attorney, but honest, kind and trust worthy—something he would never tell him to his face—he felt that he could at least try and make himself not hated by everyone. It also helped that amidst the scandal with David’s now ex-wife, Gold was the only person who would talk to him without judgment.

Family affairs were none of his business. He always kept his private life private and his work at work. Never were they to mix together and never did they need to. Far be it for him to give these vultures any signs of weakness.

“Please tell HR that I am going to need a replacement. Also, if you could be a dear and grab me a coffee, it will be your job until I get a replacement.”

“She is not your servant.”

He groaned internally, looking at the one and only David Nolan. “She can make her own decisions.”

“Sorry Mr. Gold, I have a lot of work to do for Mr. O’Malley this morning, I don’t have the time.” He could see the small smile on her lips and then on David’s.

“I expect a new replacement and soon,” he said with some finality before he brushed passed both of them. He could hear them begin to talk again—no doubt about him. He was everyone’s favorite topic to gossip about. If they were going to do it, he might as well give them things to talk about.

He did not have the time to run downstairs and grab a sub-par coffee, let alone down the street for something better. The k-cups that passed for coffee would have to do. He traveled two floors below where their lunchroom was and grabbed a mug, picked a cup and started his brew.

“I’m telling you, I could stare at that ass for days. I’ve tried to get her number, but she won’t give it.”

He was not surprised when Gaston Moore walked in with his equally pompous and dumb cohort Michael. They paid Gold no mind, as everyone usually did. If they weren’t gossiping or avoiding him, they pretended he didn’t exist. That was more than fine with him.

“Just keep trying. I am jealous you called dibs on her first, she’s easily the most fuckable woman in this office.”

Gold’s eyebrows lifted. “Now that’s high praise.” It was rare he inserted himself into conversation, but there were several women in the office that had fallen prey to these two idiots and he had to know who was on their list now.

Gaston eyed Gold before speaking. “If you saw this broad, even you Gold, would admit that she’d deserve a good fuck.”

He clicked his tongue, removing his mug from the machine. “I’d watch that tongue of yours Mr. Moore, before someone reports you for sexual harassment. Again.”

Gaston snorted. “Jealous, Gold? It must be hard knowing no woman would ever willingly be with you.”

He gripped his cane tighter, fighting every ounce of himself not to beat a fellow attorney and co-worker. “Given this woman you’re interested in doesn’t seem to share your affections, I would say you know my pain.” He gave him a sinister smile before swiftly walking out of the lunch room, hearing Michael’s hushed laughter.

It was no secret he didn’t date. He had rarely taken lovers. It was a risky thing to do, getting someone else mixed up in your life. It meant they could wield a power over you, one so strong, it could be felt deep to the core. He would never admit to anyone that the reason he had not looked for companionship was that he feared love. Once you gave something that kind of power there was no coming back from it. He once very nearly made that mistake—he had thought he was in love, but he was a young man then and he had learned from his mistakes.

One night stands were few and far between. Anything more could turn into a whole affair and that could turn into many things—love, hate, disappointment. In the end those you love disappoint you and there was nothing you could do about it.

The rest of his day went by without any issue. He didn’t need to yell at anyone and mostly stayed holed up in his office. Before he knew it, the sun had set, everyone had left and he was the last on his floor to leave.

The drive home was more or less the same as his morning commute. It was dark, but the traffic had eased, a perk when leaving the office late. When he got home the house was dark, a single light glowing above his kitchen counter once he flicked it on. There were more lights, but what was the point? He could see perfectly fine with the one. Some days he felt as if he lived in the darkness. As if he was the bad thing lurking in the shadows you warned children about.

He popped a frozen meal into the microwave, watching as the plastic dish spun on the table inside. He loved to cook, but when it came to it at the end of the day he would be cooking for one. He did not need a lavish meal for himself. If he did, he knew of several restaurants that he approved of to impress him with their culinary expertise.

He ate in silence, swirling the glass of red wine he had poured himself before taking a small sip. He nodded in appreciation and finished his meal, throwing the plastic container out and hand washing his wine glass. Since it was just him, he rarely had to use his dishwasher. He couldn’t remember the last time he had run it. The only reason he had one was because it came with the house.

He retired himself to his library, pouring himself some scotch before opening a new book he had ordered earlier in the week. He felt reading kept the mind sharp and it was one of many ways towards self-improvement. When the day ever came that he could no longer read and no longer had his wits about him, he would no longer have a purpose in this world.

Eventually, the pages left to read became less and less He checked his watch, seeing he had spent hours swept up in a book. He bookmarked his page and grabbed his cane and started the short walk to his bedroom. His knee was throbbing. Must have been all the sitting he had done today. He hadn’t exercised it nearly enough. He slowly removed each layer of his suit, taking great care to hang it back up. He slid into the cool bed, checked his alarm and sighed. If he was lucky he would sleep for a few hours before he had to get up. Lately he hadn’t been able to sleep through the night with no real cause. He would wake up not tired, but not awake either, and unable to fall asleep. He refused the aid of sleeping pills. He knew himself well enough to know that he would become dependent on them.

Sleep would claim him, slowly, as it did every night, before he woke up to do it all again.


	2. Chapter 2

Gold stared at himself in the mirror, adjusting his blood red tie which contrasted his light grey suit. He scrutinized himself in the mirror once more before he grabbed his cane and walked out of the house, checked the door to make sure it was locked before he started his car.

The drive to work was the same as usual— sleepy drivers and dark skies. He walked into the office building, up the elevator and past the desks and offices, early as always, and started his computer.

After a few emails he checked his watch, seeing it was eight o’clock on the dot. He walked to his door and saw Mary Margaret at her desk. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to grab a coffee for me today?”

She smiled, the way she always did when she was going to tell him something he didn’t want to hear. “Nope.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve found me a replacement yet either?” His eyes grazed the empty desk across from hers.

“HR said they would put up a posting today.”

It was faster than he could have hoped for, really. They probably had a specific posting for his paralegal position. One that involved working for a very difficult man. “Do try and make yourself useful, aye?”

Shes smiled again, knowing she did it for the scowl he gave her every time she did so. It was going to be another morning of k-cup coffee, it seemed. There had to be an intern somewhere who did coffee runs. If he was up on the latest office gossip, he would probably know where to find one.

He took the elevator down two floors to the lunchroom for the second day in a row. It was a tedious if not a necessary task. He needed at least two cups of coffee in the morning before human interaction. The first one he home brewed, and that was one he could always count on to be made to perfection.

Before he arrived in the lunch room he could hear voices, one of them being the ever so charming Gaston. It must have been the hour he got his coffee every day.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come out? I know this really nice bar and there is a club across the street. A hot woman like you would get in for free, easily. And with me on your arm nobody would ever bother you.” _Except you,_ he thought to himself as he walked into the lunch room.

He noticed Gaston leaning against the counter, over what he assumed to be the woman who was his newest challenge, although he couldn’t see her.

“No thank you, Gaston. I’ve got plans.” It was a polite yet firm dismissal, and her voice… her voice was light, with a hint of an accent. Not American, then.

“Plans? They can’t be that important. What plans?

The woman noticed him enter and briefly looked at him. He could see the relief in her eyes knowing that someone else was now in the room. She was leaning away from Gaston, her face near wincing at their proximity and trying her hardest to be polite about the situation. Gaston didn’t care to waste his attention on Golds entrance.

“With a friend. I haven’t seen her in a while.”

_It was a good excuse_ , he reasoned, _but never for Gaston_ , he thought as he grabbed a mug.

“You can come out after that. You won’t be hanging out all night, Belle.”

_Belle_ , he mused. Fitting name, he thought as he selected his coffee. She was beautiful, that was easy to tell. Bright blue eyes, long curled brown hair and lovely skin. He wasn’t sure if he should step in, but Belle had taken matters into her own hands.

“I don’t need to justify myself to you. I am not interested in dating anyone right now, Gaston. Please leave me alone.”

There was no desperation in her voice, only annoyance and perhaps… anger? He nodded in approval.

“Oh, Belle. I won’t give up on you. Sooner or later you won’t be able to resist my charms.” He flashed her a grin, which, if Gold had anything to say about it, thought it didn’t help his case at all

“If you know what’s good for you Mr. Moore, I suggest you stop talking before _I_ report you to HR for sexual harassment,” he spoke up, now earning Gaston’s attention.

Gaston opened his mouth to say something, but with one steely look from Gold, he wised up and said, “I’ll see you around Belle,” before walking out.

He heard a content sigh come from beside him as he looked at the beautiful woman it came from. “I would warn you about him, but I think you’ve already gotten the hint.”

She let out a breathy laugh, sticking out her hand in greeting. “I’m Belle French. Thank you, he’s been bothering me for weeks.”

He shook her hand, noting how soft and smooth it was against his own. She was beautiful, but too young for him to be interested in anything but a co-working relationship. Not that she would ever be interested in an older curmudgeon like him in the first place. “Rumford Gold. Try not to worry about him. He’ll move on.”

She smiled again. “It’s nice to meet someone else who isn’t from here. Where are you from?”

She was clearly new and had no idea who he was. If she did, then the gossip mill was really lacking these days, or she simply didn’t care. “Scotland. I’ve no time for idle chatter, dearie. And I’m guessing you don’t either,” he quipped as he grabbed his mug and walked past her.

“It was nice meeting you Rumford.”

The way his name sounded from her lips gave him pause. It had been awhile since he had heard anyone refer to him by his first name and when they did, he was sure to correct it. He didn’t acknowledge it any further, but he found he would not mind hearing it more, if she was the one saying it.

As he rode the elevator up and passed the rows of desks, he stopped at Mary Margaret’s. If there was one person who knew anything and everything there was to know about people in the office, it would be her. She looked up at him with mild confusion. “Is there something I can do for you, Mr. Gold?”

“Do you know a woman who works here, a Belle French?”

“Yeah, she’s a paralegal a couple floors down for one of the other litigation departments, just started a few weeks ago. Didn’t you get the e-mail?”

He held back his scoff. He did not waste his time with the new employee emails. If they were important, he would meet them eventually. “Must have lost it. Ms. Blanchard, could you put me through to HR once I’m at my desk?”

“Of course,” she said with a nod.

Once he arrived at his desk his phone rang, ringing through to HR. “Hi Mr. Gold, what can I do for you?” Molly, the head of the human resources department asked.

“I would like Ms. French to be my new paralegal.”

There was a short pause. “I’m not sure I can make that happen, Mr. Gold. Why aren’t you discussing this with her supervisor?”

“Gaston has been harassing her relentlessly these past few weeks. Since they work on the same floor, and I know you are well aware of his penchant for new meat, I figured you should know this before I likely cause a situation by stealing Ms. French.”

There was a sigh on the other end. Gaston had been reported several times, but Gold knew they could never fire him, which was why he continued his lewd behavior. The best they could do was move whoever had been wronged. “I’ll contact her supervisor and see what I can do.”

He grinned. “Make sure you see to it by the end of the day,” he said before hanging up.

The day went on, and as he figured, he received a phone call from Belle’s current attorney, who had only wonderful things to say about her, but was quite annoyed with him for stealing her. Ms. Fa was a younger attorney, and therefore, had less say than he did about who she would get as her paralegal. To him, the fact that Belle was a good worker was an added bonus.

By the end of the day he received the call from Molly, telling him that Belle was okay with switching attorneys and that she would officially be his tomorrow. He smiled at the thought of Belle being his. He was going to have to be careful around her. There was a certain lightness to her that was unexplainable, but it was there.

When the sun had long set and everyone had left for the day Gold grabbed his cane and made the journey to his car. The commute was the same—dark and uneventful. When he got to his house it was dark, save for the single light he turned on when he walked into the kitchen. He grabbed a frozen meal, popped it into the microwave, and watched as it turned in circles.

He poured himself a glass of Merlot and carefully set the table with a napkin and silverware. It might just be a frozen dinner, but that did not mean he was a barbarian. He had class. Since tomorrow was Friday, he figured he would stop at one of the restaurants on his way home. There was no telling what he would be in the mood for, especially since his tastes were varied.

He cut his food, swirled his wine and finished his meal in silence. He threw away the tray, hand washed his wine glass and grabbed his cane so that he could finish his day in the library. He walked up the steps, sat in his chair, opened up his book to where he left off yesterday and let himself get lost in its story.

When he checked his watch hours later, it was time for him to retire for the night. He settled the book on the table, grabbed his cane and slowly made his way to the bedroom. His knee bothered him less today which meant he might fall asleep easier since it wasn’t throbbing. _I need to do my physical therapy more_ , he thought. Who had time for that?

He carefully hung up his suit piece by piece and settled into bed. He checked the alarm and laid back, hoping sleep would find him soon.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is definitely a bit longer than previous chapters. This is a classic example of me having one idea and then somehow over the course of writing it morphed into something else. Enjoy!

His tie was black, contrasting his navy suit for the day. He caught his own eyes in the mirror, seeing them as brown, beady orbs. His hair was graying in several places, the wrinkles were more pronounced around his eyes and of course, there was his blasted cane. His age showed and David told him more than once that he was working himself to an early grave.

He was content with his life. He was married to his work and only answered to himself. There was no one to disappoint, and no one to disappoint him. The way he saw it, he wasn’t sacrificing anything.

He grabbed his cane, walked to the garage, double checked that he had locked the door, and began his dark commute into work. He rode the elevator alone, passed the empty desks and offices before arriving at his own. He frowned at his new paralegals desk. It was probably too much to ask, having her be early as well. He should’ve had Mary Margaret ring her and tell her what would be expected of her. She would find out soon enough.

He wasn't sure what had made him take her on as his paralegal. He appreciated the female form as much as any man, but he was not the kind of man who hired an assistant based on gender or appearance. He was impressed that she didn't fawn over Gaston like a lovesick fool-- most of the women did. She didn't have any trouble holding her own against him and if he was honest, he needed that in a paralegal. He needed one that wouldn't cry at the first snap and could also be firm with their clientele.

He started his computer and began his emails for the day. They were somehow never ending, even when he managed to get through them all, more appeared. One in particular about some new system they were implementing he had put off for days. Why did they feel the need rely so heavily on technology? He hoped Ms. French was a fast learner—he had no time to learn this system.

A soft knock brought him out of his haze, seeing none other than his new paralegal in the doorway. He checked his watch. Quarter to eight. She was punctual, a good start.

“Good morning Mr. Gold,” she greeted with a smile. How one was so happy in the morning, he would never know. She walked in with a mug and set it on his desk. He stared at it with a frown. It wasn’t coffee.

“Miss French, what is this and why did you put it on my desk?” He eyed her with a scowl.

“It’s a cup of herbal tea,” she explained. “Made it myself. I know you are a coffee drinker, but I had no idea how you liked your coffee and I make a good cup of tea, if I do say so myself.”

“Let’s get this out of the way, dearie. I do not drink tea, I drink coffee. I like it black and if you must know, I prefer it freshly ground and dark. None of that flavored shite will do. There is a coffee shop down the street that can do a decent cup of coffee, Mary Margaret knows the name and the details. I expect it on my desk every morning. I am not here to be your friend. I am not here to be nice. In fact, please do try to stay out of my way. Do as I say and there should be no problems between us.”

Her eyes bore into him, as if she were weighing what she was going to say to him. “With all due respect, Mr. Gold, I am not here to be your coffee courier. I made the tea as a kindness and you have yet to try it. I don’t expect to be your friend, I don’t even expect you to be nice. However, I am a human being and I do expect to be treated with some respect.”

His lips turned into a wicked grin. “Respect? Dearie, that is something you have to earn. So far, you have done nothing to earn it. Now fetch my coffee, do as I say and stay out of my way or I will personally see to it that you will be Gaston’s paralegal by the end of the day.”

The anger on her face showed as her teeth clenched. He would never do that to her, he was not that cruel, but she had to know he had the power if he ever wanted to. He had earned his name and he intended on living up to it. If she expected to be treated differently because she was a pretty face, she was in for a treat.

Without a word she nodded and left his office, grabbing the tea and calmly shutting the door on her way out. He was slightly disappointed that she didn’t slam it in anger or lash out at him, but instead she emanated calm and poise. He figured it might be hard to evoke a reaction from her. He grinned to himself. This was going to be fun. She would outlast the others, but it was only a matter of time. She was young and optimistic, the world had not crushed her spirit yet. It was a lesson everyone had to learn at some point, he was only going to help it along.

He was surprised that Mary Margaret hadn’t come to scold him about his words to Belle, as she had with the previous women he had forced to quit. Perhaps she had already warned Belle and Belle didn't listen.

Belle returned ten minutes later, a cup of coffee from the café down the street in her hand. She set it on his desk without a word and he didn’t acknowledge her presence. She lingered in front of his desk, earning a sigh from him. “Is there something you need?”

“What would you like me to help you with?”

“I assume you’re a smart girl. You can figure it out. If you can’t, then you aren’t cut out for this job and you should consider something else less taxing.” He continued typing, able to feel the frustration coming from her, but not a single word. “You’re dismissed, Ms. French.”

She silently left and closed the door behind her, earning a small smile from him. She wasn’t going to make it easy for him. He sipped his coffee, finding it to be exactly what he ordered. Now that he had a paralegal, he could start reassigning some work.

Surprisingly, he had made it to lunch without a word from Belle or Mary Margaret. He had assigned a few tasks to her, but had not heard anything more regarding them. He checked his watch, seeing it was in the middle of Mary Margaret’s lunch hour, as well as the majority of the floor. For some reason everyone decided to be friendly with each other and eat together. He couldn’t think of anything he’d like less.

He got up from his chair, working out the kinks in his neck and back as he grabbed his cane. Lunch was always an excuse to stretch his legs and exercise his knee, without making it seem like that was why he was out and about. When he opened his door, he was surprised to find Belle sitting at her desk, completely immersed in the novel in front of her. She didn’t seem to register he was there as he walked past her.

By the time he came back from lunch, he could see Belle leaning against Mary Margarets desk, her hands gesturing back and forth as they were deep in conversation. “You are paid to work, not gossip with your co-workers,” he reminded her as he walked past. She opened her mouth to retort, but he shut his door before she could get a word out. He figured dismissing her was more irritating than getting in a smart response.

When the end of the day rolled around and he checked his watch, he was disappointed he hadn’t heard from Mary Margaret or Belle. It was almost as if they were avoiding him. He _had_ told Belle to stay out of his way. It seemed she was good at following orders so far. A little too good.

He stopped at her desk, finding she had left for the day, along with everyone else, which was no surprise. There was one picture frame with a picture of Belle with three other women, that looked to be at someones wedding. She looked radiant and happy, a big smile on her face. There was a desk calendar which looked to be one that had some obnoxious inspirational quote of the day on it. The last piece of decoration was a tiny succulent, sitting in a pot of colorful rocks. It still didn't bring him any closer to figuring her out.

He shook his head of her and continued to the elevator. Tonight he felt like Italian. The place he had in mind had a great wine selection and their Friday specials were never disappointing.

When he arrived he ordered a glass of Cabernet, and the chef special of the night. The lighting was low to set a romantic mood as the place had been full when he arrived. He twirled the wine glass with his fingers, watching everyone else. People watching was one of his favorite things to do. Half of the tables seated younger people, most of whom were on their phones, distracted and uninterested in their company. It was a shame that this is what life had amounted to.

People not talking to each other, staring at their screens, texting others or playing games. Some had animated conversations, some didn’t talk at all. One table was in the early stages of dating and if he was reading it properly, she was not as interested in him as he was with her. He was talking enough for the both of them, so much so the woman could barely get a word in. Their conversation was boring her, but she smiled and laughed—never reaching her eyes—out of politeness. He had no idea. The poor fool.

He sipped his wine, glad he was alone. He did not have to worry about impressing anyone, making sure he was being entertaining and that she was having a good time. It was exhausting, putting so much effort in. And for what? Inevitable rejection? If he focused on self-improvement, he knew he would see the results and he would be happy with them. He wouldn’t rely on another for his own happiness. Not again.

He switched to another couple, holding hands across the table. It seemed as if they were in love, even in their eyes. They had been together some time, it was clear with how they acted around the other. They talked, but not constantly, and were comfortable with the occasional silence. He didn’t want to admit it, but he felt a twinge of jealousy. Not for the absence of love, but the lack of physical touch. This couple would go home and most likely end up wrapped up in each other.

It had been a long while since he had been touched in that way and he felt the itch every so often. It had been even longer since it was a proper lay. The trouble was finding someone who wasn’t repulsed by him and someone whom he hadn’t offended yet. Even without trying he managed to offend people, which was a gift when he wasn’t trying to find someone to warm his bed.

He ate his meal when it arrived, tipped his waiter nicely and left without thinking more on the lack of female companions he had. Some people eyed him and his cane as he walked out. No matter where he went it drew attention. Children were the worst offenders, not yet acquiring the filter to be discreet in public. He wished he could snap at people, maybe even hit them over the head with his cane, but that would draw further attention to him.

He drove home in the dark and when he arrived, went straight to his library. He poured himself a healthy portion of scotch—it was his version of letting loose on a Friday night—and picked up his book. Hours had passed and he had finished his book and his scotch. He checked his watch, seeing it was around his usual time to go to bed. He would go to work tomorrow, even though it was Saturday, if only because it was something to do.

Sunday he would think about doing his physical therapy exercises and do the necessary chores of the day. He hated cleaning and laundry, but they had to be done. It was the same reason he didn’t have a driver—he couldn’t put that much trust in someone, especially when it came to something as personal as his laundry. He was a clean person, it was an easy enough house to upkeep.

He slid into bed, not bothering with an alarm for the morning. He would most likely wake up at the same time anyway.

\--

It was Monday again, which left Gold scrutinizing himself in front of the mirror. He picked a pale blue tie with a dark grey suit. His drive was the same: dark and uneventful. The office was quiet and he was alone.

It was nearly eight before Belle walked in with his cup of coffee. She looked as chipper as she had before, which unnerved him. She didn't look annoyed with him in the slightest. “Good morning, Mr. Gold.” Still punctual, so he couldn’t say anything about her being late. He nodded to her in response and in dismissal. She left as quietly as she came in.

His second cup of coffee was critical to the day, especially on Monday’s. He grabbed the cup and took a sip, nearly spitting out the liquid that he swallowed. He stared at the cup, seeing it was from the café down the street. It wasn’t coffee, but tea that was inside. Herbal tea. “MISS FRENCH,” he exclaimed loudly enough for her to hear.

Not a second later she popped into his office with an innocent smile. “Yes, Mr. Gold?”

“This is not my coffee.” He could feel his jaw clenching.

“It’s not? I specifically ordered the same thing I did last time. They must have made a mistake.”

She had her best innocent face, but he had been reading people for years. Hell, it was practically his job. “If I didn’t know any better Ms. French, I would say you had taken a cup from your previous trip, made your own tea, and passed it off as my coffee in retaliation.”

She furrowed her brows in mock confusion. “That sounds like a lot of work, Mr. Gold. Forgive me, but I don’t know that I’m smart enough to have thought of such a thing. It does make you think, though. What would happen if I was mean to the barista? They could spit in that drink, or worse. Laxatives can be pretty tasteless these days.”

Without another word, she turned and left his office, most likely smiling on the way out. His mouth hung open in surprise. Not only did she intentionally give him the wrong drink, she threatened to prepare him for a colonoscopy.

He didn’t want to admit it, but he liked her spunk. It was rare someone was willing to go against him. He was used to threats in the court room, but outside of it? It had been _years_. His lips pulled up at the thought. Normally he would make a scene with some yelling and jabs at her character, but it seemed to give her ammunition against him. He wasn't going to be able to use his usual methods with her. He was going to have to think outside the box.

He eyed the tea. Her message had been clear and he did not want to test how far she would go. He had no time to grab coffee this morning, but he wasn't sure he could trust the tea. He begrudgingly took another sip and nodded. Long ago he used to drink tea, but had stopped and turned to coffee. He knew a good cup of tea when he had one, even all these years later, and Ms. French was right. When it came to tea, she knew exactly what she was doing.

Despite his morning, he had heard nothing more from his paralegal or secretary. He checked his watch, seeing it was time for his lunch stroll. As he opened the door, he heard a voice that was not welcome on his floor.

“C’mon Belle. It’s just lunch. I’m buying. Everyone else is gone. You can’t sit here reading, how much fun could that be?”

Gold fought the urge to roll his eyes. He had no idea how Gaston managed to pass the bar exam. “Mr. Moore, is there any specific reason you are up here?”

Belle looked relieved, while Gaston was mildly annoyed. “I am taking Belle out to lunch.”

Gold snorted. “I don’t think you are, as she has already agreed to lunch with me today.

Surprise crossed Gaston’s face and Belle’s was a mask of neutrality. “We will make plans for tomorrow, then.”

“I’m afraid not, Mr. Moore,” Gold said, eyeing him sternly. “Ms. French is not going to have time for lunch with anyone, most of all you. Let me make myself clear. You may think you are untouchable, but if I see you on this floor, if I see you so much as glance at Belle without her interest, I will beat you bloody with this very cane and I will make it look like an accident. Am I clear?”

Gaston had the decency to look afraid. Good. Without another word or look Gaston hurried away from Belle’s desk.

“You didn’t have to say all of that,” Belle commented, staring at his cane, no doubt wondering if he was all talk.

He shrugged. “It would be my pleasure to smack him around a bit.” That seemed to earn a small smile from her as she settled back into her chair and pulled out her book from Friday. “What are you doing?”

“Reading? I’m taking my lunch now,” she answered as if it was obvious.

“I said you have lunch plans with me.”

She stared at him as if he had two heads. Maybe a part of her was afraid of him. Afraid to be alone with him. So she wasn't as brave as she pretended to be. It seemed his new method of getting under her skin had materialized on its own. “I didn’t think you were serious.”

“As a heart attack. Let’s go, dearie.” He didn’t give her a choice as he motioned for her to get up and follow him out. He could feel the stares from the few people that were left in the office and shrugged them off. Let them think what they wanted. He hadn't planned on taking her to lunch, but it seemed to be the first thing that threw her off balance. He had to take the opportunity.

He glanced at her as they rode the elevator down, watching as she was fidgeting with her fingers and chewing on her bottom lip. His feisty paralegal, it seemed, was nervous to be alone with him. “You can stop fretting. It’s just lunch.”

She stood taller and pulled her hands to her sides. “I am not fretting.”

He half-rolled his eyes as the elevator doors opened. “You threatened me this morning. If you weren’t fretting, I would be insulted. After you,” he motioned with his cane for her to leave first.

She quickly walked out of the elevator, followed by him. As they walked out, he watched as Belle nodded and waved to the security guard for the building and the man smiled and waved back. Gold ignored the man and continued outside. “There is a Greek place down the street. Does that sound agreeable to you?”

“Yes, that sounds lovely,” she smiled, albeit a little nervously.

Given it was lunch time and everyone was out and about, getting their freedom while they could, the sidewalks were busy. They didn’t speak, but she easily kept his pace, cane and all. When they arrived at the Greek restaurant, he stopped and opened the door for her.

She looked up at him in surprise and gave him a genuine smile. “Thank you.” He nodded in response and followed her into the small place, filled with people eating and talking. There was a line, which could be expected at this hour. “What do you recommend?”

He turned to her, watching her as she took in their menu. Her eyes were wide, her cheeks only slightly flushed from the walk there, and her hair a fraction wind blown, but still holding its beautiful curl over her shoulders. It was easy to see why men would flock to her. She was beautiful. A woman any man could easily fall for. “I personally favor their gyro. Although their personal Greek pizza’s have not disappointed me yet.”

Sooner than he thought they were at the register and he had ordered a gyro and gestured to Belle so that she could order.

“Oh, no I can pay for my own.”

“I insist, Ms. French. I did ask you to lunch after all.” He stared her down, ultimately getting her to order the gyro as well.

“Thank you, Mr. Gold. You really didn’t need to do that,” she said as they found a newly open table to wait.

“When it’s just us, Ms. French, you can call me Rumford.” _If only because it sounded so good coming from her_ , he thought.

“Only if you call me Belle,” she reasoned with him.

“Of course.” He settled his cane against the wall and folded his hands on the table, looking around at all the patrons of the restaurant—some of them regulars like himself.

“Rumford,” she said with a pause, no doubt testing the waters by using his name. He internally smiled with the way it rolled off her tongue. He hated his name, but not so much when it came from her. “I—am sorry for threatening you this morning. I only wanted to prove a point.”

“Point proven,” he smirked. “I will say this—it has been awhile since someone has threatened me. You’re a brave woman, or you haven’t heard about me.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’ve heard the rumors and I know everyone believes them, but I don’t.”

His eyes met hers in surprise. “Brave—or dumb, then.”

She smirked. “I think you want everyone to believe you are this horrible person. It’s easier for everyone to be afraid of you because then you have all the power. I also get the feeling you truly don’t like being bothered, given your solitary lifestyle.”

She was definitely one of those optimists. “I didn’t realize wanting to be powerful and living alone was against the law.”

“No,” she shook her head. “It’s not. Lonely, maybe, but not wrong.”

He snorted. “Lonely? I haven’t been lonely since I was a boy.”

She nodded, but he could see that she didn’t believe him. He wasn’t sure why he was even entertaining her. “Even I get lonely sometimes,” she admitted.

She sat, staring at her hands at her admission. She was clearly baiting him, but he was curious to see where she would take it. She thought she could pin him down exactly, but she was far from the truth. “I can’t imagine that, with all of the male attention I’m sure you get. And you must have plenty of friends.”

Someone from the restaurant delivered the food to their table, earning a smile from Belle and a lingering look from the man who had brought their food.

“Just because I get the attention, doesn’t mean I want it.” There was a sadness to her voice that he picked up on, making him feel a twinge of regret at his words when Gaston popped into his mind. She didn't ask to be bothered constantly. “And I do have friends, great friends. That doesn’t mean I can’t be lonely from time to time.”

He didn’t like the serious tone of the conversation and he didn’t like how it was getting too personal. He wasn't even sure how they ended up talking about it. “I’m sure if Gaston had his way you’d never be lonely,” he tried to joke, earning a small smile from her.

“He doesn’t take a hint.” She unwrapped the gyro and took a bite, giving a small groan of appreciation. “You did not lead me astray with this choice. This is amazing.”

His lips twitched in a small smile as he began eating his own gyro. “If you think this is amazing, you should go to this Mediterranean place a few minutes away. Their hummus and pita bread are home made.”

“If I were looking for a specific type of restaurant, would you have suggestions of good places?”

He furrowed his brows at such a stupid question. “Of course. I have lived here for almost twenty years, now. I know the places worth going and which ones to avoid.”

She smiled. “It’s just that… I’ve asked around and since I’m new to this city, no one has told me of any places that have really… impressed me yet.”

Suggesting good places to eat. Now that was a safe topic he knew much about. “Example?”

“I was craving Mexican and Lynn from downstairs said that the best place was Juan’s, but I wasn’t impressed.”

He nearly choked on his food and ended up coughing instead, his face contorting into disgust. “She might as well have suggested Taco Bell! Ach, these people don’t know good food if it hits them in the face.” He could see the small smile on her lips at his disgust, which in turn made him want to smile. “I know it sounds like it wouldn’t be any good, but El Pollo Loco is the best Mexican place you will find in this city.”

“Have you been there recently?”

He wracked his brain and shrugged. “It has been a few months. Maybe I’ll go on Friday,” he said to himself. He usually didn’t choose so far ahead in the week, but Mexican always sounded appealing.

There was a pause in the conversation as they ate before Belle decided to ask, “Would you—can I join you?” He looked up at her in surprise. For the first time since he had met her she became shy, averting her gaze, focusing on her gyro.

“I thought you had friends. Why on earth would you want to go with me?” Clearly she could go with anyone she wanted. He was sure half of the office would go out with her if she asked. He was too surprised by her request to deny it outright.

“I do, but since I transferred I haven’t really made any friends here yet. They’re all back home in Maine or Australia.” She shrugged. “Honestly, you’re the only man in the office who hasn’t hit on me and other than Mary Margaret, the women I’ve met are all…superficial. Is that mean of me to say?”

He grinned at her observation. Most of the men, even married, were womanizers. She wasn’t wrong about the women either, the majority of them were not capable of having an actual conversation. He would have thought she was too nice to have said something so accurate. “It’s true,” he agreed. “Mary Margaret is the only one I can tolerate. Don’t tell her I told you that,” he stared at her pointedly. “I also find it hard to believe that every man has hit on you. David Nolan?” He knew for a fact that David would never, despite the fact he had cheated on his previous wife.

She laughed as she finished her gyro. “No, he’s been a gentleman. He’s also Mary Margaret’s fiancé and they’re kind of preoccupied with the wedding.”

“Ah, right. That is coming up rather soon. Time consuming things, weddings.” He should know, his own had been mediocre and it was still a headache.

“It sounds like you have experience in that.” She quirked an eyebrow and eyed his ring finger, as if she had been lied to about him being alone, or if maybe the reason he was so angry was that he had lost someone very close to him.

Damn she was perceptive. He didn't want to share anything about himself, but he couldn’t have her thinking that he was an asshole because he had lost a beloved wife in the past. That wouldn't help his reputation in the office. “Happily divorced, many, many years ago.”

“Me too,” she admitted, and he wasn’t sure why it had surprised him. “Maybe not that long ago, but it feels like it.”

He had several questions, but all of them went against his own rule of not getting close to anyone. Perhaps he could learn about her and not have to divulge much about himself. His curiosity had never been peaked to this extent. She was young, but most likely around the age he was when he got divorced, if he had to guess.

“How long has it been?”

“Two years since it’s been finalized. We were together in high school, our parents wanted us to be together. We were that couple everyone thought would be together forever.”

He met her eyes, seeing the sadness behind them that she tried not to show. It was the first time he had seen the lightness in her eyes disappear and it unsettled him. He knew firsthand how raw an experience it could be. Whatever had led up to it still left scars. It was then he recognized the sadness in her eyes as his own, from many years ago. “What happened?”

She shrugged, failing to meet his eyes as she focused on the people walking outside. “We got married too young. My father was so upset—he loved Will like a son. He still refuses to talk to me.”

This was why he didn’t get involved. He knew what she was feeling, he had been there himself once. It was one of those shitty life lessons. It seemed she already knew about this one and yet she still found a reason to be happy every day. “And your mum?”

“She understood. We still talk regularly. She actually encouraged me to transfer to the states. She knew I wouldn’t be happy at home, not until my father had some time to cool off. We hadn’t really anticipated him being upset for this long,” she attempted to joke, but only managed a half-smile.

He knew that longing in her voice—he had once let himself show the same thing. It was a weakness. “Move back home. I’m sure he misses you.”

She looked at him as if to say ‘yeah right’. “I do miss it—him. I was never meant to stay there, though. I’m meant to be here, I think.”

He glanced at his watch, seeing they were supposed to be back in the office. “We should be getting back.”

She checked the time on her phone and quickly stood. “I didn’t realize it was time already. It definitely flew by.”

_It definitely did_. As they walked back to the office, he noticed it was more of a comfortable silence between them. She seemed more at ease and part of him was glad he could offer that to her. Perhaps he could be her one friend of the office, as David was to him.

He stopped his thoughts. _What?_ He wanted to befriend her now? He shook his head. He had one actual conversation with her and suddenly... He glanced to her, seeing her take in the world around her. There was that lightness again, something he couldn't put his finger on. He was going to have to watch himself around her. It was as if he was a moth and she was the flame. If he believed in the supernatural, he would've called her a witch.

They weren’t alone on the elevator, not bothering to talk as they exited and walked towards their work spaces. He noticed Mary Margaret was at her desk, typing away as she eyed the both of them returning together. “Thank you for lunch Mr. Gold.” Mary Margaret's typing slowed, clearly catching Belle’s words, before she started her normal pace again.

Knowing that Mary Margaret was listening, he decided it was time the rumor mill needed some fresh material. Something that it had never heard before. Something truly scandalous.

“My pleasure, Ms. French. As for Friday, I would love to go out to dinner with you, if the offer still stands.” Belle smiled brightly, her eyes shining again with that light she possessed, and he could hear typing cease completely. He internally grinned.

“I would like that,” she nodded.

“Good.” He turned around, seeing Mary Margaret was staring in their general direction with wide eyes. “Can I help you Ms. Blanchard?” His tone was more even than it was seconds before.

“No, sir.” She averted her eyes and went back to typing. He walked into his office and shut the door, knowing full well his secretary was about to grill his paralegal for information and grinned. That would give them something to talk about.

 


	4. Chapter 4

It was finally Friday. Gold had been waiting all week for it to arrive. He and Belle had spoken only briefly since their outing on Monday and he was itching to talk to her again. It wasn’t a date, only a simple outing between co-workers, perhaps eventual friends. That didn’t mean that he couldn’t take extra care for his appearance today.

He made sure his hair was perfectly combed and brushed back. The suit he chose was a perfectly tailored blue which he adorned with a gold tie. He looked at himself in the mirror, seeing he was ready for the day and for a night out. He would head to the restaurant directly from work, so he had to make sure he was ready before he left.

He grabbed his cane and walked to the garage, leaving in his Cadillac. The drive was dark as to be expected this time of day. There seemed to be fewer cars on the road, causing him to arrive to work earlier than usual. That was never a bad thing in his eyes.

He sat at his desk, seeing files he had left from yesterday that Belle had dropped off. Her work was thorough and needed minimal tweaking. She had a great attention to detail, which he admired, and it seemed she was a quick study.

He glanced at his clock, seeing it was seven forty-five. Like clockwork, Belle walked in with a mug of her specialty tea and a big smile. “Good morning Mr. Gold,” she greeted.

“Morning Ms. French,” he said with a nod. He had never told her to stop bringing his tea and truthfully, he enjoyed it. It was something new he looked forward to in the morning. She turned to go, but he stopped her. “Ms. French.”

She turned to look at him, her eyes searching his desk as if he had forgotten to give her a file. “Yes?”

He wasn't sure why he felt so nervous all of a sudden. “Is seven o’clock okay with you for dinner?”

She nodded and smiled again. There was something about her smile that captivated him, he realized. It was infectious, beautiful, and genuine, which was possibly how he would explain Belle to anyone that didn’t know her. “Seven is great.”

“Good. I will meet you there, then. I hope you are ready for authentic Mexican cuisine.”

“You haven’t disappointed me yet,” she remarked with a smile before she left his office.

There was that word that he despised. Disappointment. It wasn’t him she was referring to, but his food recommendations. He knew as a person he could disappoint her all day long, but he could count on one of the things he knew very well and that was food. He’d been honing those skills for years.

The day, to his surprise, seemed to drag on. He didn’t have appointments, only paperwork he wasn’t in the mood for. He noticed the sun low in the sky as days grew shorter and shorter. He glanced at his watch and noticed it was six thirty. El Pollo Loco was only a ten minute drive, but if he factored in parking and potential traffic, it could be longer. He wanted to arrive first—he did not want Belle to be waiting for him.

He packed up his desk quickly and breezed out of the office. For the first time in a long time, he was not the last to leave. He rode the elevator down and briskly walked to his car. The ride to the restaurant was easy—only a few main roads and there it was. He parked and checked his watch. He was only fifteen minutes early—right on time for him.

The restaurant was packed, which didn’t surprise him given that it had great food and also did not have much space. He put his name on a wait list which was only fifteen minutes, and sat to wait. He would have made a reservation, but it was one of the few places that did not accept them. He frowned upon that, but when the food and service was good, he couldn’t be too picky.

It was five minutes to seven when he checked his watch again and he hadn’t been called to a table yet. At that moment, he noticed her walking in. She wore snug jeans, black boots that had a bit of a heel to them and a deep navy-blue sweater. If he was honest, that sweater scooped lower than any of her work shirts had. It was appropriate and nowhere near being risqué, but he couldn’t help but notice the slight curve of her breasts were more pronounced than usual.

He snapped his gaze to her face, which found his at the same time, causing her to smile. “Hey. I should have known you’d be early.”

“Of course. I have been waiting for our table. We should be called any minute.”

“Great.” She looked at him and frowned. “I feel under dressed. You came right from work, didn’t you?”

“You know the answer to that. Also, I never dress in anything other than a suit. I feel that it represents who I am, and the old saying is true, dress good to feel good.”

“That’s a shame. I bet you would look great in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I was hoping I would get a glimpse tonight, but from the sounds of it I won’t ever get to,” she teased.

He blinked and stared at her. Was she… flirting with him? He had been out of touch for some time, and flirting had never been his strong suit, but he could never know for sure. “No, dearie, I’m afraid not.”

“Mr. Gold?” the hostess called, alerting him to the podium. He motioned for Belle first and made his way to the hostess. “Right this way,” she gestured, allowing both of them to follow her to a table in a corner with a window to look outside toward the street. She set down menus and told them their waitress would be right with them.

“I’m not even sure where to begin,” Belle stated as she flipped open the menu.

“They give you chips and salsa here. Their salsa is decent, but their guacamole is made right here and it is some of the best.”

He opened his menu, not quite sure what he felt like. Everything was good, so it was a matter of which sounded the best. As if on queue, their waitress came by with a basket of chips and salsa and introduced herself. “Do you have any of your guacamole?” He had asked because they only made so much, sometimes they were sold out if it was really busy.

“We do,” she said with a nod.

“We will have some of that with our chips. Also, I will take one of your original margaritas.”

Belle eyed him in surprise as she switched to the drink part of the menu. “Uh… I’ll have the Blue Hurricane margarita.” The waitress nodded and left.

“Good choice,” he said with a nod.

“I didn’t peg you for a margarita man.”

He smirked. “When it comes to alcohol, I don’t discriminate. But the margaritas here are worth the price. They know how to make them right.”

She smiled and stared at her menu. “Any suggestions?”

“Everything is good. It’s a matter of what you’re in the mood for.” He watched her as she read the menu, her jaw dropping every time she read something that sounded good to her. Which if he was watching her properly, was everything. It was entertaining to watch her eyes light up every time she read something new. She took delight in the simple things, something he never managed to do.

The waitress brought their guacamole and drinks and left once he asked for more time. He watched as Belle took a sip of her margarita and blinked in surprise. “Uh, wow. That is some strong stuff.”

He tried to hold back a grin as he sipped his own. “Traditional Mexican margarita. Too much for you, Belle?”

She playfully narrowed her eyes at him and smiled. “No, you will find I can handle myself very well actually. I’m used to places watering down my drinks, so it was a bit of a surprise.”

He rose his eyebrow in response, not needing to say anymore. He would see how she was feeling at the end of her drink. She took a chip and scooped up the guacamole, closing her eyes and murmuring to herself as she chewed it. For the slightest second, he wondered what she would look like in bed, being completely ravished, hair across his white sheets, her smooth fingers running through his hair. He bet it was a fine sight to see.

He immediately shoved those thoughts away. He was _not_ that kind of man. She was young and beautiful, but there would be nothing between them other than a tentative friendship. He wasn't going to be the guy who constantly hit on her, or tried to make her a conquest. She deserved better than that.

“This… this is by far the best guacamole ever.”

He smirked, dipping his own chip into the green goo before placing it into his mouth, and nodded in agreement. He had yet to eat anything that beat it.

They both ate chips and browsed the menu in silence, until she slowly closed her menu and began drumming her fingers on the table. “Rumford,” she started as if she were going to propose something to him. “I have an idea, but I’m not sure you will go with it.”

He shut his menu and folded his hands on top of the table. “Well I can’t very well turn down something that I don’t know, can I?”

She fidgeted with the edge of the menu as if she was thinking of her plan for one more second before verbalizing it. “Can we get the small tacos appetizer and then share the Fiesta? I mean it has everything we could want, it has flautas, sope, enchiladas and chile rellenos. I couldn’t possibly eat all of that myself, and I figured that, well, maybe… you wouldn’t mind sharing it with me?”

He caught her very faint blush, as if she was embarrassed to even ask. Honestly, he was surprised she asked. She wanted to share food with him? Didn’t that seem a bit intimate? “Belle…” He paused. He did not want to give her the wrong impression. They were strictly friends, or whatever it was they were becoming.

“Too much? I’m sorry, forget I asked. I didn’t… don’t want to make it weird. I can tell you are one of those people who don’t like to share, and that’s fine, I just figure if we’re sharing, we both could eat more of a variety and… never mind.” She ducked her head, clearly embarrassed at her proposition and went back to reading her menu.

She only wanted a variety. She wanted to try as many things as possible, because everything sounded good to her. She was right—that plate was meant for two and it wouldn’t be as good leftover. She was also right in that he didn’t like to share. He didn’t share his time, he didn’t share his things, and he most certainly never shared food.

However, he felt he could make an exception this time. She had the bravery to suggest it to him, knowing he would very well turn her down. The least he could do is muster up some bravery himself and accept her offer.

“We can share the appetizer and the Fiesta. I think that sounds like a great idea.”

Her head snapped up and a smile slowly crossed her face. “Really?”

He shut his menu and gave her a small smile in return. “Yes. A bit of everything does sound nice.” She continued to smile at him as if he had made her day. It was a minor thing, but he found he enjoyed being the one who made her smile. It wasn’t hard to get her to smile, but sometimes, he noticed, she would smile so big her dimples would show, and her eyes shined.

He figured he would do almost anything to get her to smile at him like that. It had been a very long time since anyone had ever looked at him that way and he found that it lit up a dark place inside of him he didn’t know was there.

“Is this what you do for fun on a Friday night?” She asked, gesturing around them.

He let out a short chuckle. “Yes, this is about as wild as I get. I’ll go home and drink some scotch while I read in my library.”

Her eyes widened. “You have a library?”

He noticed her sit up straighter at that fact. He should have guessed she liked books, he had seen her reading on all of her lunch breaks. “It’s more of a large room filled with bookcases and so I call it a library, but I suppose that depends on who you ask.”

“That’s amazing. I have a bookshelf that seems to take up the majority of my apartment, which doesn’t say much because it is very tiny, but I have so many books that I have them stacked everywhere. It’s a bit of a mess, I’m afraid. To have my own library? That is a dream.”

Her whole face lit up as she seemingly buzzed with excitement. “If you love them so much, why aren’t you a librarian? Or at the very least, work with books?” It seemed like a valid question. She was good at her work at the firm, but she wasn’t nearly as excited about it as she was about books.

Her smile wavered and her eyes went to her hands. “Actually, when I was living in Australia I was in university getting my masters in library science. I was working at the Mills & Mills branch out there. The libraries near me weren’t hiring so I had to find a job where I could make some money, so I started working at Mills, because they were accommodating to my schedule. I was married at the time and my ex-husband made enough money to pick up the slack as he had graduated the year previous. I had one more year left when we started the divorce. As I’m sure you are aware it was expensive and any money I had went into legal fees. My parents refused to help me, so I was on my own. When it became official, living at home became unbearable and I knew I couldn’t live there anymore. So I transferred to Maine, but unfortunately there weren’t any colleges nearby that branch and my schedule was less flexible. So I waited and looked until this job came up. There are a few universities near here that offer the degree, and the majority will transfer the credits I have earned. Now I’m waiting until I have enough money to go back to school.”

He had remembered what it was like to be one paycheck away from being homeless. It was stressful, but he had worked his way up and through to get to where he was. He sometimes took the money he had for granted. He felt proud that she was ambitious and had a plan and yet she wanted to sit and spend time with him. “I’m sure you’ll be getting that degree in no time. You’re a smart woman.”

She smiled and the waitress returned to take their orders and leave again.

“Tell me about yourself,” she asked, as if he were an open book. He was most certainly not an open book.

“Not much to tell, really. Moved from the Glasgow office to the one in New York City, stayed there for a year before I decided I hated it and transferred here. I’ve been here ever since.”

She stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate, but he kept quiet. “That’s what you tell people in meetings when you’re new and introducing yourself. I mean… why move from Glasgow? Or the city?”

There she was, his persistent paralegal. He should’ve known better than for her to leave it alone. He supposed there was no harm in divulging certain information, especially since she had no friends in the office. “You should know I am a private person.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “I’m not going to take your information and use it for trade secrets. This is how friends get to know one another. They talk. I know it may be a new concept for you, but you should give it a shot.”

He looked at her with a mixture of surprise and embarrassment. She truly wanted to be his friend. He would have to ask her why later. “I moved from Glasgow because I had just gotten divorced and the only thing there were bad memories. I also knew my ex-wife had no desire to come to the states, so I would never see her again, which was a bonus. I moved from the city because, as you can imagine, I hated being near so many people all the time. It was suffocating.”

“I’ve never been. I figure I’ll get there someday. I can see what you mean, though. I don’t like the idea of being so stuffed in one area. Why did you get into law?”

He weighed his options, the truth or the very abridged version, and decided to give it to her straight. She had asked for it, after all. “I grew up in some very bad parts. My mother was a drug addict and my father was an alcoholic. She overdosed when I was younger and my father was a mean drunk. He’s the one who…” he paused, staring at the cane next to him. No one really knew why he walked with a cane, but it was more because no one had ever asked than him being embarrassed about it. “He’s the reason I need to walk with a cane. The doctors tried everything, but they couldn’t fix me quite one hundred percent,” he cracked a smile, as if he were telling a joke. “I was sick of being a poor boy and I figured attorneys make a lot of money, I’ll be one of those. It took some work, but here I am.”

He noticed the sadness in her eyes, which was why he never told anyone the true nature about his knee. He didn’t need or want anyone’s pity.

“Thank you… for sharing that with me. It means a lot that you would.”

Something, somewhere deep inside of him stirred. He felt… he wasn’t sure what he was feeling. It had almost felt as if he had been chained down and suddenly, he was free of his shackles. It was liberating.

“If I hear anything in the office about this, I’ll know it was you,” he attempted to joke, but it fell short.

She gave him a small smile. “I would never do that to you, Rum.”

He paused, seeing she didn’t catch what she had done. She didn’t call him by his full name and instead shortened it, creating her own nickname. Even his parents had never called him anything other than Rumford. His ex-wife would sometimes call him Rummy, mostly because she knew that it irritated him. Belle had simply referred to him as _Rum_. As if it was so natural for her to do so.

Yet as he stared into her deep blue eyes—her beautiful, endless eyes—he could see no malice, only understanding and... compassion?

He needed to change the subject and fast. “How do you like the Mills and Mills here so far?”

She seemed to not care that he was changing the subject, as if she knew it was getting to be too much. “It’s not bad. I work for this attorney though. He’s kind of an ass, but sometimes he isn’t so bad.”

His lips twitched in amusement. “Sounds like he isn’t doing his job well enough if you don’t find him a complete ass.”

She shrugged. “He can try, but I don’t think I’ll ever see him that way. Underneath it all he’s kind of a gentleman.”

He snorted. “A gentleman? That’s taking it a bit far, don’t you think?”

“Not really,” she shook her head. “He holds the door open for me, he lets me off the elevator first. He buys me lunch, even after I’ve threatened him. And he’s saved me multiple times from an insufferable co-worker.”

“I’m sure many other men would do the same. Chivalry isn’t completely dead, or so I’ve been told.” By Mary Margaret. Several times.

“You’d be surprised. It’s hard, actually. The dating world today is horrible.”

He had been out of the dating game since he had been divorced, but what possibly could have changed? “Dating in general is horrible. I can’t imagine a young woman like yourself would have trouble finding a suitor.”

She scrunched her nose. “Suitor?” She let out a tiny laugh, and he knew she was poking fun at him. His lips twitched into a small smile. “I’ve tried dating since my divorce. All guys my age want is a quick bang or quite frankly they have no respect for me as a person. None of them worked out. I’ve been called a prude, a tease, a slut, you name it. It’s gotten a bit out of hand. That’s why I’ve decided that I’m not going to date for a while.”

“Gaston should rest easy knowing you weren’t lying about that,” he joked, causing her to laugh.

“Imagine the vast majority were varying degrees of Gaston. I’m better off single. I will be a single mother if I have to, than let someone like Gaston be the father of my children.”

He laughed at that idea. He was pretty sure Gaston couldn’t stand children. He could imagine Belle as a mother, though. Soft, sweet, full of love. “That is a scary image.”

“Exactly. What about you? Did you manage to have any children before you were divorced?”

It was a fair question, given his age. Many men his age had children and given he was married, it wasn’t a crazy notion. He could feel his mouth form into a scowl. “It was the reason I got divorced.”

“Oh,” she said with a nod. “You didn’t want to have kids and she did?” She guessed.

“Quite the opposite,” he said through clenched teeth. Other than him and Milah, no one knew what had happened. Well, her lover knew. He could feel the anger bubbling inside of him at the whole thing. He had never told a single soul and he had buried it deep inside. He never let himself think about it and instead tried to ignore it. He looked at Belle, seeing she was being patient and was not going to persist on this topic. She might have been persistent, but she was not cruel and was not going to make him talk about it.

It went against everything he believed in, especially divulging his past, but after so many years, there was no one to tell. He felt it nagging him in the back of his head, wanting to be set free. For some reason secrets felt safe with her. She was new, if for some reason she decided to share his secrets, he could discredit her without a thought. After all this time he wondered if Milah had been right all these years, and he had been the dumb, pig headed fool she believed him to be.

“I found out that Milah—my ex-wife—she had an abortion. She was pregnant and didn’t tell me so that she could get an abortion because she didn’t want children. She knew I wouldn’t want her to get rid of the baby. I wasn’t exactly ready to be a father, but I knew I had to take care of my responsibilities. I was, as you can imagine, a tad upset with her when I found out. Then I found out she had a lover and she wasn’t sure the baby was even mine. That’s when I knew my marriage was over.”

Belle frowned, her head shaking in anger. “That’s horrible. I can’t believe she would just… be so selfish. I could never do that. You know what you’re getting yourself into and if you’re not prepared for the consequences you shouldn’t punish such an innocent life for it. You could have been a father.”

He was prepared for a reaction, but he wasn’t prepared for Belle to be so affected by it. He felt better, knowing that Milah had been a selfish bitch this whole time and it wasn’t just him. He reached across the table and held Belle’s hand to comfort her. “Belle, it’s ok. I’ve come to terms with it. There’s no need for you to be upset.”

She took in a big breath and let it out, attempting to give him a smile, but failing horribly. “I’m sorry. It’s just… the reason I got married was because I found out I was pregnant.”

He stopped breathing. Did Belle have a child? How did he not know?

“We were only twenty, we were in university and had so much ahead of us. It was the worst time to have a baby, according to him. I was upset and nervous, and everything else you can be when you’re twenty and pregnant, but I wasn’t going to get rid of my baby, it was a part of me. My parents were furious. We got married and…a month later I had a miscarriage.”

A tear escaped and slid down her cheek and she swiftly brushed it away. “I’m sorry, I should be over it by now, but it’s still hard to talk about.”

He got up and sat next to her, rubbing her back in hopes to soothe her. He might have been regarded as an ass, but there were times and places for it. “Belle, no one expects you to be over it. No matter if you planned it or not, it was a lot of stress for you to deal with. That baby was a part of you and it always will be.”

She lifted her eyes to meet his, and he could see the shine to them. He wondered if, perhaps, no one had ever bothered to tell her that it was ok and it wasn’t her fault.

“Thanks,” she sniffled and wiped under her eyes. “I can’t believe I just let my emotions get the best of me like that.”

He smiled and sat back in his own chair. “Never apologize for expressing your feelings. They make you who you are, and I rather like who you are.”

That earned him a smile. “You do?”

“Yes I—“ The waitress set down their appetizer before he could say anymore. They thanked her and she left when he realized he was breaking several rules. He didn’t do feelings, he didn’t share, he wasn’t supposed to be comforting anyone. He made friends at arms length for his benefit and he had a reputation to maintain.

Yet as he studied her, smiling once again and eagerly filling her plate with tacos, he felt that his rules were never going to apply to her. She made him want to express himself and he wanted to know more about her. He wanted to see her smile, to share her pain, find out what it was that she loved and how to make it happen. He wanted to continue feeling the way she lit up the darkness that surrounded him. How could he ever try to ruin her? She was already broken and still she smiled.

The images flooded him. Belle in his bed, under him and over him with that smile of hers. Belle, laughing over dinner. Belle, happy and full with their child.

It was as if something had snapped into place. He could feel it deep inside. She was perfect for him. The light to his dark. He had heard stories—hell—even David had told him that when he met Mary Margaret he knew that he married the wrong person. He thought it was a load of shit, but now he understood.

He liked Belle French. How on earth had he allowed that to happen?

He was so fucked.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second half of their night will be the next chapter, it's not done yet! I hadn't intended on this happening so quickly, but apparently over the course of writing Belle managed to charm me too.


	5. Chapter 5

“The tacos were so good,” she remarked as she took a sip of her margarita.

“I have not yet had a bad meal here,” he nodded in agreement. He glanced around the restaurant, noticing a few older couples, some families and few young couples. One of the young couples was barely speaking as they were buried in their phones and barely looking at each other.

“You like to people watch too?”

He glanced over at Belle, knowing he had been caught. “Usually I’m alone and I am interested in how others interact when they’re out.”

“It’s fun to give them stories, a background of their life.” He saw her as she looked toward the couple he was eyeing. “Like them. Maybe he’s at university studying business and she is going for something in fashion and they met at this frat party that the guy and his frat brothers threw last year.”

He rose his eyebrows at her. “That’s completely inaccurate.”

She smirked. “Oh really? Why don’t you tell me, then.”

He looked at the unassuming couple. “He can barely match his outfit, let alone have the brains to go to business school. And if she were in fashion, she would not let him out of the house like that. No, he definitely is some kind of starving artist, either a musician or painter. She seems into his whole homeless look for some reason, and although she is very well dressed, I wouldn’t say she’s studying fashion. Maybe international relations, or something government related. As for how they met, probably at some hippie café.”

Her mouth hung open slightly in surprise. “Wow. That is… well, spot on, I think. You have a real knack for this. What about that family over there, with the two teenage sons. Tell me about them.”

He glanced at the table with the two teenage sons and their parents. The kids were mostly absent and on their phones, while the parents were engaged in conversation. “The kids are in sports, probably basketball given their height. The father definitely works some type of manual labor, just by looking at his build. The mother is definitely having an affair.”

“What?” She harshly whispered as she stared at the mother. “Why would you say that?”

“She is very attractive and keeps up with her figure. Her meal is healthy. She is not flaunting her looks in any way, be it her casual clothing or her hair put up into a ponytail. She seems distracted, even though she is talking to her husband. She laughs and smiles, but it’s not reaching her eyes. She’s putting on a show, and he has no idea.”

“She could just be tired after a long day,” she reasoned.

“I’ve been reading people a long time. In my line of work I have to, I’ve seen the worst in people. Maybe I am wrong, but at the very least I can tell that that woman is unhappy.”

She frowned, taking one last glance at the woman before facing him. “That must suck, being able to read people so well.”

He shrugged. “A gift and a curse. Helpful for the job, though.” He cracked a small smile and had a sip of his margarita.

“Are you glad you became a lawyer?” She looked at him with interest.

He shrugged. “I’m good at it. It can be stressful a lot of the time, and it consumes most of my time, but I suppose I do feel fulfilled.”

She scrunched her nose as she smiled. “You do work a lot. Aren’t you tired of working so much?”

“I’m not sure what else I would do, honestly. I’ve dedicated myself to my work.” It was the truth. Ever since he had gotten the job, he threw himself into it. Initially it helped in that he was trying to forget the sting of betrayal from his ex-wife and then it just became a lifestyle.

“Don’t you ever want to go on vacation? See the world? Have a family? Something?”

He chuckled at her suggestions. “When I was younger I traveled. Not often, but I did. After some time traveling alone became… unfulfilling. There’s something to be said for sharing experiences with others.”

“I would never say no to a paid vacation,” she playfully suggested. “Especially with nice company.”

He knew she was kidding, but he wanted to call her bluff. “Where do you want to go? I would be happy to have such a beautiful companion to travel with.” He was treading dangerous waters. Maybe the margarita was getting to him.

She laughed and blushed, ducking her head at the compliment. “I couldn’t let you do that.”

“Not one to accept gifts, hm?” She had a weakness, then.

“A gift would be a book or a meal out. A vacation is something else entirely,” she said with a smile. “I’d feel like I was using you, and friends don’t do that.”

He felt that without a doubt Belle was a good person through and through. He didn’t think she could use someone if she tried. “Nonsense. Friends buy friends things. Or so I’ve been told.”

She nodded. “I suppose that is true. So we’ve covered vacations. I couldn’t help but notice you didn’t talk about having a family or anything else.” She peered up at him from her drink, attempting to be coy.

She was a persistent little minx. Although, it was one of the things he was beginning to admire about her. “A man my age has no business having children.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s not the question. Age aside, if you had the chance to have a child or a family, would you want that or would you rather live alone?”

The easiest answer would be to live alone. However when it came to Belle, he could never give her the easy answer. “A small part of me once wanted a family,” he admitted. “A long time ago, I thought it was what I wanted. But I chose work instead. Now at my age most women are done having children, or have some of their own. I’m afraid that ship has sailed.”

“You are being dramatic,” she said as she half-rolled her eyes at him. “You can find someone younger. My father did.”

He raised his eyebrows at that. “How did he manage that?”

“My mum never liked guys her age, or so she told me. So when she met my dad who owned a flower shop in the next town, who I might add has fifteen years on her, she didn’t bat an eye. They got married a year later and had me a year after that.”

It was nice to know that age differences didn’t bother her. However, it changed nothing. He wasn’t handsome, he had a limp, and he knew, despite her accusations, that he was definitely an ass. “I guess men like him can give someone like me hope,” he joked.

Before she could reply, their waitress set down their massive plate of food to share. It was quite a bit of food, but Belle looked more than ready to dive into it. They each picked portions and put them onto their own plates, trying a bit of everything.

Watching her eat was something he enjoyed. She made it known how she felt about food and she wasn’t shy about eating. He was used to girls like her ordering salads and drinking water and starving themselves. He would take one with a hearty appetite any day.

It took them a bit to finish their food, but they managed to get through it all, to his surprise. “That was delicious,” she declared with a satisfied smile. “I haven’t had a meal that good in weeks.”

The corner of his lips tipped up. “I’m glad.” When the waitress stopped and left the check on their table, Belle moved to grab it, but he was faster.

“I invited myself out with you tonight, it’s only fair that I pay for our meal,” she reasoned.

He pulled out his card and set it with the bill on the table. “Not a chance, dearie. I was coming here whether you came or not. Consider it a perk for doing your job well.”

She frowned. “Okay. But I’ll pay next time.”

It was hard for him to hide the surprise on his face. He had expected this to be a one time event. “Next time?”

His gaze must have been intense as she blushed when her eyes met his. “I was hoping… maybe I was being too presumptuous. I thought we had a good time and could do it again. You know, as friends.”

Even if he wanted to, he was pretty sure he could never say no to her. “We are having a good time. I didn’t think you’d want to be seen out with me all the time. People might get ideas.”

The waitress came and took his card away. “So what? I’ve stopped caring about what others think. The people who matter know the truth and that’s what counts.”

“All right.” He would let her have that, for now. There was no use in letting her know of his doubts. Once word got out in the office—as it always did, some way or another—she might reconsider their friendship.

He signed the receipt when the waitress came back, allowing them to slowly walk out of the restaurant. “I can at least walk you to your car,” he offered.

“Oh I don’t have a car,” she said as she pressed something on her phone.

“Do you plan on taking the bus? How do you get to work?” The bus was unreliable at best. The public transport in the states left much to be desired.

“I got an Uber. It should be here in a few minutes. And I walk to work, since I live close. When the weather sucks I Uber or take the bus.”

“I would have driven you home.”

She looked up at him and smiled. “I know. But you’ve already been so generous today. I don’t think I’m on your way home.”

“Wouldn’t have mattered to me. I just want you to be safe.”

She smiled at him again, this time with dimples and a light in her eye. “I’ll be fine.”

“You never know. There are some crazy people out there. I’ll understand if you say no, but is there any way you can let me know you made it home safely?”

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for such a worry wort. What’s your number?” He rattled off his number, watching as she input it into her phone. “There. I’ll text you when I’m home safe.”

It hadn’t occurred to him that he had just asked for Belle’s number. “Thank you.”

He watched as a car pulled up and asked if she was the one who had called for an Uber. She nodded and turned to him. “Thank you for a lovely dinner.” Before he could comprehend what was happening, she leaned up and placed a soft, quick kiss on his cheek. She smiled and left in her Uber before he could process these turn of events.

He had been kissed plenty of times. There was no reason to feel like a silly school boy over a girl. A girl half his age no less, that wanted nothing more from him than a friendship.

And still. The kiss burned into his cheek and left a mark on his heart. For the first time in he wasn’t sure how long, he slowly smiled, turning into a grin as he walked to his car.

By the time he returned home he immediately checked his phone.

_Hey it’s Belle. I’m home safe and sound._

He quickly saved her number into his phone and typed back.

_I’m glad you’re home safe. Thank you for letting me know._

He walked into his house, turning on the one light in his kitchen before making his way to the library. It was quiet in his house. He thought to the conversation he had with Belle regarding having a family. He had given it thought before. He bought a three-bedroom house in hopes it would have more occupants. In hopes someday he would marry again and have a child or two.

Instead as the years grew on, he converted one of the bedrooms into his library, and the third one was more of a storage space. It was a house and not a home.

He checked his phone, seeing he had no further response from Belle. He figured she wouldn’t text him anymore. She had no reason to. His blue-eyed temptress. Originally, he wanted to ruin her. He wanted to make her quit, and ruin her like he had the others. He scowled at the thought that he was going to ruin such a beautiful person.

He knew his rules. Never get involved, guard his heart and stay alone. Belle was different, though. He wanted to see her succeed, to see her dreams, and to be the one to help her do it. Instead of ruining her, he was going to do the opposite. He was going to woo Belle French. He wasn’t quite sure how he was going to accomplish that since she was not interested in dating, especially not someone like him.

However, if he managed to make her slowly have feelings for him, she could reconsider?

He had played it easy long enough. He would make Belle French fall for him, or he would break his own heart trying.

For the first time ever, it was a risk he was willing to take.

\--

He arrived at work early on Monday, as he usually did. Neither he nor Belle texted each other for the rest of the weekend, which disappointed him, but he didn’t want to come off as the creepy older man she worked with. He couldn’t be too eager.

He started his work and waited until the time he knew Belle would be coming in with his tea. When seven forty-five hit, he patiently waited for Belle to walk through his door. He tried not to smile when she walked in with his tea and a bright smile of her own. “Good morning Mr. Gold.”

“Miss French,” he said with a nod. “How was the rest of your weekend?”

“It was nice. I got to read, explore the city a bit. How was yours?”

“Quite uneventful, which I suppose isn’t too bad,” he answered. It sounded better than the same as every other weekend, he imagined.

“I suppose not.”

He had to remain professional at work, no matter what budding friendship they had. “Thank you for the tea, Miss French,” he dismissed her, watching as she walked out of his office with a tilt of her head and a smile.

His work carried on for a few more hours without any more interruptions from Belle, to his dismay. When he heard his door open his head jerked up, hoping it was his favorite brunette. When it wasn’t, he frowned. “Mr. Nolan. What can I do for you?”

David grinned and sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk. “I’ve heard that you’ve changed from scaring off your paralegals to taking them out to dinner.”

He had warned Belle this would happen. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It wasn’t against office policy, but he knew what the other staff would say. What they would think of him and of her.

David grinned further. “You can’t hide it Gold. Belle told Maggie everything, and she was so excited that she had to let me know. I thought we were friends, but I had to hear this from my fiancee.”

“What did Belle tell her?” He tried to keep his voice even as to not show his nervousness.

“You two had dinner Friday. She had a good time. When’s the next date?”

“She thought it was a date?”

David began to laugh. “I honestly thought Maggie was pulling my leg. This isn’t like you, Gold. She said it was a dinner between friends.”

That’s exactly what it was, but part of him had hoped she thought of it as something more. “She’s right about that.”

David paused as he stared at Gold. He held firm, trying not to glare back at him. He couldn’t let his feelings show. Not before he had a chance to let Belle know properly. “You like her.”

“She is my paralegal and she does an excellent job. Of course I do.”

The younger attorney grinned. “I know that look. I told you, Gold. I told you that when it happens it smacks you in the face and there is nothing you can do about it. I never thought I’d see the day.”

He sighed. “Promise me that you or that gossip hungry future wife of yours will not say a word of this to anyone. I mean it.”

“Trust me, neither of us would dare. We’ve seen you tear people apart out of boredom. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, its that love is powerful. I heard about the threat to Gaston. I imagine that was before you even knew you had feelings for her. God help anyone who stands in your way when it comes to Belle.”

“I do not love her,” he shook his head. “That is a bit extreme.”

“Not yet,” he said as he stood. “She is one of a kind. I don’t know her that well, but what I do know, I can see why you two would find each other. It won’t be long before everyone else figures it out. You haven’t had one of your usual fits since she started.”

Without another word he stepped out of the office. He was right. He hadn’t had a reason to be angry. Belle was more than competent at her job, and she had a calming influence over him. He had no reason to ever be annoyed in her presence.

It was only a matter of time until everyone found out.

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

It was Friday once again, the whole week had seemed to stagger along. He and Belle made idle conversation every day, but everything was work appropriate. She was ever the professional, and he wasn’t sure he could admire her any more than he already did for it. He could have thought that she wanted to be his friend simply because she knew he held a lot of sway with others in the company. However, that was definitely not the case.

It was almost time for her to bring his tea and he decided he was going to go for it. He had been a coward all week in asking her out to dinner tonight.

She walked through the door with a usual smile and his tea. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” he greeted with an attempted smile, but failed. “Miss French, do you have a moment?”

“Of course,” she responded with another smile.

“Do you have plans tonight? I was thinking we could do dinner again. As friends, of course.”

She frowned. “Oh Mr. Gold, I’m sorry but I can’t. I made plans with Maggie tonight.”

Damn his secretary. “Of course. Another time, then.” He was an idiot. A hopeful idiot. This was one of the reasons he had decided to never pursue anyone. To keep himself from looking over eager and stupid.

“I am free tomorrow, though. I guess there’s this arts and crafts festival this weekend? With food and live music. I was planning on going. I’m not sure if it’s your thing, but if you want to go with me I wouldn’t mind the company.”

He tried not to perk up at the mention of spending the day with her. “Aye, I know the one you’re talking about.” He wasn’t one to enjoy festivals, especially if there was large amounts of walking, but if Belle was offering, he wasn’t going to turn it down. “I’d love to go with you. I can pick you up and we can take the shuttle there, it’s far easier.”

She smiled. “Great. I’ll text you my address tomorrow. Is ten o’clock okay?”

“That’s perfect,” he agreed. “Now get back to work,” he said with a grin, causing her to smirk and walk out without another word.

\--

Gold was up bright and early Saturday morning. He had his cup of coffee and from there, moved onto his wardrobe. He knew for a fact that he would look ridiculous if he went to the festival in a suit. He was going to have to tone it down if he wanted to fit in.

He found a pair of khakis shoved to the back of his closet and put them on. They fit perfectly, which was no surprise as he hadn’t gained or lost any significant amount of weight since he could remember. He sorted through his shirts, noting he didn’t even own a simple polo shirt. He would have to rectify that at some point. For now, he picked one of his older, less formal blue long sleeved shirts and put it on. He rolled the sleeves up to his forearms and kept it untucked in an effort to look less like a businessman.

He rummaged around his shoe rack until he found a pair of brown loafers he didn’t even realize he owned. He slipped his supportive soles inside, knowing he would be walking a good deal and needing the extra support. He surveyed himself in the mirror and nodded in approval. He still looked professional, but casual enough for his liking.

He looked at his phone and saw Belle had texted him her address. It was in a nice area, at least. He managed to occupy himself for another hour before he had to leave. He had something to pick up before he met her. He was supposedly a gentleman and he was adamant in trying to woo Belle. He was only going to have one shot, he had to make it count.

He had parked in the driveway of where Belle said she lived. It was a house, although according to her she lived in an apartment. There were two doors going inside that he could see, and he wasn’t sure which one she would be coming out of.

Instead of choosing the wrong one and looking dumb, he decided to wait outside his car on the passenger side, holding the single red rose he purchased from a local florist. He had to put on his Ray Ban aviator sunglasses as the sun was out in full force this morning. He quickly texted Belle that he was in her driveway.

He watched as she came out of the door to his right, her back to him as she locked it. She was in a yellow sundress that hugged her upper body, flared out at the hips and ended at her knees and a pair of sandal wedges. Her hair was down in loose curls, which was how he preferred it.

When she turned around and saw him standing there she paused and then smiled. She bounced down the stairs—he wasn’t sure how in those shoes—and walked towards him.

“I saw this and thought of you,” he said as he handed her the single rose. She took it with a smile and sniffed it. “Did you know roses are my favorite?”

“Now I do.” He looked down at her, seeing she was still shorter than him, but a vision in yellow. He would have a hard time keeping his eyes off her.

When her attention turned to him, he could sense the shock and maybe… admiration at his appearance. “I thought you only wore suits.”

He shrugged and opened the passenger door for her. “I figured I would be a bit out of place in a suit at a festival.”

“It’s a good look,” she said with a smile before she sat in his car and he closed the door. He would keep that in mind for later.

He made his way to his side and started the car. “You look lovely, Belle,” he commented as he stared at her briefly before backing out of the driveway.

He could sense her blush. “Thank you.”

“I thought you said you lived in an apartment?” He commented as he started driving toward the festival.

“I do. The house was re-done into three apartments. I live in the attic. It’s a studio, but I don’t need that much space, plus I can’t afford to rent anything else. Not until I’m done with school anyway.”

“I used to own various properties some years ago. It was profitable, but I hated being a landlord.”

She chuckled. “I’m not surprised. You’re not much of a people person.”

“Am I that obvious?” He said with a half-smirk.

“It is funny. The nature of your job is to work with people.”

He tried not to glance in her direction. Out of the corner of his eye he could see her bare legs next to him. He had never been much of a leg guy, but when it came to Belle… he was a fan of everything.

“Yes, but this way I can yell at everyone and get paid to do it because I know what I’m talking about.”

He could almost feel her smile next to him. “I suppose that is true.”

The conversation fell silent, but he did not feel awkward, or that it was uncomfortable. She was staring out the window, tapping her fingers to the soft music playing in the car.

“You can change the station if you want,” he suggested. “I know you must like those newer pop stations, not this older soft rock stuff.”

She shrugged. “There isn’t a lot of music I won’t listen to. I’m not a fan of death metal and jazz music, but I know all kinds.”

“Do you know who sings this?” He asked, wondering how deep her knowledge went. This song was popular when he was younger, Belle had to have been hardly a child.

“Of course I do,” she said as if it were obvious.

“Ok. Who is it then?” He rose an eyebrow at her, trying to call her bluff.

“Tom Petty.” He turned to her with a bit of surprise on his face. “Didn’t think I knew that, did you?” There was a bit of smugness to her voice.

He had to admit, he was impressed. “Most younger people don’t know anything than what’s in their own generation.”

“You shouldn’t generalize or underestimate my generation. You might make an ass of yourself,” she teased. “At the very least, you shouldn’t underestimate me.”

He had to smile at that. “You'd think I'd have learned after you threatened to put laxatives in my coffee.”

She let out a light laugh and he found it hard not to continue smiling. She had such a lovely laugh, he wanted to hear it all the time. “At least you know who you’re dealing with.” There was some cheekiness to her tone. Another layer of Belle French that he could get to know.

“Aye, I won’t be pissing you off anytime soon.” Or ever, if he could help it.

“Do you always go to this festival?”

He bit back a laugh. “No. Not really my thing.”

“Then why did you agree to come with me?” Her tone wasn’t accusing, it was simply inquisitive and slightly confused.

He had to think about his response carefully. “I need to get out of the house more. And it couldn’t hurt to try having a friend.”

With his eyes on the road he couldn’t tell her expression, but there was a definite silence before she spoke. “Don’t you have any other friends?”

“Hah,” he huffed. “Mr. Nolan is the closest thing I have to a friend. I am not a nice—or even interesting—person. As you mentioned I do not like people, I found that if I live a solitary lifestyle there is no one that can disappoint me.”

“Except yourself,” she offered.

He had never really considered that at all. “How could I disappoint myself if everything I did was for me?”

“Well,” she started and then paused. “I would say that ever since my failed marriage, I have stopped putting the fate of my happiness in other peoples hands. It forced me to really think about myself and what I want and what makes me happy. If I don’t do something, or if something happens in result to what I did, I could be disappointed in myself. Having been in a place where I blamed myself for a lot of things, that can really weigh you down.”

He was going to say he never blamed himself for anything, but that would have been a lie. At one point he blamed himself for being a bad husband, then he blamed himself for not knowing how horrible Milah was, and… this was too much to think about. He didn’t want to think about himself. “You make a valid point.”

The car was silent again before they engaged in idle chatter as they arrived at the lot where the shuttles took people from the lot to the festival. He sat next to Belle on the bus, noticing the stares from some of the men—even some with women—directed at Belle. He couldn’t blame them, she was beautiful.

“Is there anything you’re interested in buying?”

“I’m not sure. I always love local arts and crafts, but I have almost no room in my apartment for anything. I don’t even have much wall space, not with bookshelves everywhere.”

Staring into her eyes was something he found he could get lost in. Today they were bright and blue and full of happiness. She was a natural beauty, hardly wearing much makeup, which he appreciated. “Sounds like the opposite of my house. I’m afraid to say it definitely looks like a man lives there.”

“If you ever need a decorator….” She suggested with a smile. It was a joke, but little did she know he would let her do whatever her heart desired. He noticed a couple men across the way, nearly leering at Belle. He clenched his teeth and for reasons he could not explain, he wrapped an arm around Belle’s shoulder, giving the men an icy glare. Their eyes suddenly found the front of the bus.

“You know I can take care of myself,” she said with a smirk, but made no move to get rid of his arm. “But I have to admit, that was far more effective than anything I’ve tried. My ex-husband wasn’t even that effective.”

As if he suddenly realized what he had done, he pulled his arm back to his side. “I’m sorry Belle. I’m not sure what came over me. That was entirely inappropriate and I apologize.”

She bit her lip to keep herself from laughing. “Rum it’s fine. There was nothing inappropriate about it. In fact, thank you. I don’t want to sound self-centered, but it gets a bit exhausting. The staring, the lame pick-up lines. I would just like to have a break from it all.”

He was relieved that she wasn’t upset, but she had to know… “By doing things like that, people are going to think… they’ll think we are dating, and I don’t want to ruin your image.”

She put her hand up to her mouth and started laughing. He wasn’t sure what he said that was so funny, but apparently she was amused. “What image is that exactly? That I’m single and ready to mingle? Because I do not want to mingle. Besides, so what if they think we’re together. There’s nothing wrong with it. If anything I need to keep you with me. You seem to do a good job scaring them off.”

He wasn’t sure he could believe what he was hearing. She didn’t think the idea of them was completely ridiculous? He thought he was going to have to fight harder to win that battle on his quest for her affections. “The idea of them thinking that we’re together doesn’t bother you?”

She shrugged. “No. Does it bother you?”

He nearly laughed. Did it bother him? If only he could be so lucky. “Of course not.”

“See? No harm done. Actually, I think this friendship can be mutually beneficial.” She had a gleam in her eye, one that meant she was up to something.

He wasn’t sure he was going to like it. “Oh?”

“When we’re out together and either of us notices any unwanted attention towards me, we can pretend we’re dating, so I won’t get hassled.” She smiled as if the plan was perfect.

“One thing, dearie. What am I getting out of it besides your wonderful company?” He would be getting the joy of men everywhere being envious of him for no reason, but she didn’t seem so caught up in herself that she would think that was his reward.

She grinned. “Since you proclaim to love being an ass and you do it so well, whenever there is a guy that is being forward, you can give him the meanest glare or you can threaten him with your cane for all I care. You can be the biggest asshole ever, as long as its warranted and it doesn’t get us arrested.”

His lips turned up into a smirk. He loved any excuse to argue with anyone and he also loved being an ass to those who deserved it. The fact that it was towards men who had eyes for the same woman he intended on wooing was icing on the cake. “I believe you’ve got yourself a deal.”

She smiled wide. “Great.”

The bus stopped at the entrance to the festival. He watched as she got off the bus and turned to him with a smile, excited to go through the mass of vendors. As long as she was happy, he could manage to get through it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your guys' lovely comments, I do enjoy them! Hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	7. Chapter 7

There were more vendors than he ever remembered. It seemed as if it was never ending and went in all directions and looped around. Belle had to go into every booth, inspecting every bit of art or craft that could be found. He had found out she had a penchant for candles, and had made him smell them all with her. She didn’t buy any, though, claiming she already had too many for her small apartment.

She also enjoyed looking at the plants, particularly the bamboo plants one vendor had. She claimed that although she liked plants, she had killed them every time and had yet to find one she could keep alive. Although bamboo was easy to take care of, she told him she had managed to kill one last year, thus giving up her hope of ever having some kind of green thumb.

She was very into the jewelry, which was prevalent among the festival in all shapes and sizes. He learned she loved necklaces and had only been able to bring so many with her to the States. He frowned when she said that her parents had likely thrown everything of hers out by now, even though her mom had tried to save certain things.

She was browsing one of the booths selling pottery when the booth next to it caught his eye. He wandered in, still in her eye sight, seeing that this man ran a booth specializing in clocks. He liked clocks, he always liked to be on time, but what fascinated him the most was that these clocks were made to look antique with bits and pieces of pop culture thrown in. Some were metal with references to Superman or to older television shows. He admired the craftsmanship of each and every one.

“These are so cool!” Belle exclaimed, suddenly next to him. Her wide eyes took in the clocks, smiling at each and every different one.

“Aye,” he agreed. “Do you have a favorite?”

She continued to look around at all of the different kinds, settling on one that was different from the rest. It rested on the table, the time itself was smaller and in roman numerals with circles around the side and a wing sticking out and he noticed it was a dragons wing and a dragon had been crafted around the clock. Its overall design could be classified as steampunk. “This one,” she said pointing to the dragon clock.

He had to admit, he did like the clock. It was different, it didn’t have a specific reference to anything and he was a fan of the style. “Same. I think I’ll buy it.” If anything, because Belle seemed to enjoy it as much as he did, and every time he looked at it in his house he could think of her.

“Really? Isn’t it kind of expensive?”

He brought the clock to the vendor, pulling out his wallet to hand him the cash. “No, I rather like it. I could use more things to liven up my house, and I am fond of antiques.”

The man placed the clock in the box and put that in a bag, enabling him to carry it around easily and still use his cane. It was a bit heavy, but nothing he couldn’t handle.

“I can carry it, if you get tired,” she offered. It wasn’t out of pity, or sadness that she offered. She merely wanted to be helpful and that made him smile.

“No, but thank you. You have been keeping a good pace thus far, I shouldn’t have any problems.” He smiled at her, hoping it would reassure her. She smiled in response as she checked out the next booth. It was becoming more and more crowded, especially with it being such a lovely day. He looked around, catching the eyes of a man currently staring down Belle’s backside. He started walking towards her, allowing him to step forward. “I suggest you take your eyes off my lady and pick another booth,” he said pointedly.

The younger man, now noticing his presence, stopped in surprise. He looked back to Belle and then at him, causing Gold to raise his eyebrows in response. He seemed to accept defeat and walk in the other direction. Gold watched him leave before he settled to Belle’s side once more, her none the wiser.

He had already given several men warning glares, but no one had dared confront him or Belle yet. He didn’t think she was kidding, but Belle was too attractive for her own good. He was young once, but he also knew women deserved respect. These boys wouldn’t know how to treat a woman like Belle, that was for sure.

By the time they had gone through most of the booths it was lunchtime and they stood in line waiting for some fried food.

“I love festival food,” she claimed.

He frowned. “And here I thought you had good taste in food.”

She playfully nudged him. “It is a guilty pleasure. Its not so bad, really. Besides, last time I said I’m taking you out and its my treat.”

“If you insist.” He didn’t like the idea of her paying, if only because he wanted her to be able to achieve her dreams sooner. He knew school was expensive and time consuming.

“When we’re done here, we’re sharing some fried dough.”

He scrunched his nose. “That sounds awful.”

She let out a soft laugh. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had fried dough.” He shrugged in response, causing her eyes to widen in surprise. “That is a crime! Now we have to share. You’re going to love it, just wait and see.” She smirked, that knowing gleam in her eye once again.

He wasn’t sure how he let her talk him into doing these things. He wasn’t crazy about fried foods, or festival foods, or sweets in general.

They both ordered cheeseburgers and fries from the food vendor, along with water for the both of them. Since they were being made constantly, it was ready right away. She scanned the area for any empty tables and found a spot at one end free, quickly nabbing it by the time he managed to get there.

He began to eat his cheeseburger, finding it not as displeasing as he thought it would be.

“Admit it. It’s not that bad.” He watched as she happily dug into her own burger and fries. She was an enigma. She loved the finer things such as the arts and good food, but she also loved festival food and window shopping, since she hadn’t bought a single thing.

“It’s ok,” he acquiesced, earning a smirk from her. Once they finished she told him to hold their spot as she procured fried dough. Apparently it was easier to eat sitting down than walking. The idea that he would walk and eat to begin with… that was taking things a step too far.

He watched the festival goers around him, noting their pleasure in the food, in others company and just happy to be outside. There were plenty of children around and part of him was glad to see truly happy families.

“Here’s some napkins, you’ll need them,” she announced, setting the fried dough in front of him. He eyed it skeptically.

“Is that powdered sugar and cinnamon?”

“Sure is,” she grinned, ripping off a piece of the dough and plopping it into her mouth. “Mmm, I swear this is the reason I love festivals.”

He tried not to let her small moan distract him, but it seemed Belle had no trouble sharing her emotions or feelings on anything. It made him wonder if she would act the same way in the bedroom. He shook his head from those thoughts. He could think about that later, when he was alone. With a frown he ripped off a small piece and plopped it into his mouth.

It was very sweet and very warm, but overall… it was good. He couldn’t stop himself from taking another larger piece, earning a grin from her.

“See all the things you’ve missed out on?” He watched her take another piece and savor it as if she would never have it again.

“It’s better than I anticipated.”

“You have a hard time admitting you’re wrong, don’t you?” He noticed the twinkle in her eye and he couldn’t help the chuckle that came out.

“I don’t get excited over things easily, which may be construed as I don’t like to admit I’m wrong. If I’m truly wrong, I will admit to it.” It was true. He always owned up to his mistakes.

“Isn’t there anything that excites you?”

“I suppose a good business deal excites me.”

She frowned. “No, nothing work related.”

He shrugged. “It’s not in my nature.” He couldn’t very well tell her that she excited him, because these days she was the only thing that did.

“That’s…” he frowned deepened. “That’s sad.”

He rolled his eyes are her dramatics. “I’m not known to be a happy person. Content, maybe on some occasions. I’m a horrible person, you know that.” She had to know that. She had heard the rumors, the stories and even witnessed it firsthand.

“No, you’re not. You’ve made yourself out to be, but you’re good inside.” They were silent as she finished off the fried dough as he had nothing more to say. He could tell she was deep in thought because she wasn’t looking at him. “Were you even content today or was that just a show?”

This was a fine line to walk. He wanted to tell her that he was only there because of her, because she owed him a meal, but that would have been lying. If there was anything he knew about relationships, it was that if it was going to work, they couldn’t start with lies. He knew if he did, it would only hurt her. If anything, he never wished that on her.

Instead he went with the risky response, the one that could ruin the foundation he was trying to build and show his true intentions. “With you, I am always more than just content.” He would leave her to interpret that statement on her own.

A smile formed on her face and he could see the beginnings of a blush starting. She had no comment to that and instead threw away their trash as he stood.

“I think we’ve hit every corner here. Is there anything else you wanted to do today?”

“No,” she shook her head, leading them to the exit. “I figured I would read a bit, get some laundry done.”

“Aye, me as well.” He was slightly disappointed that she didn’t want to hang out anymore, but what could he expect? By looking at his watch, they had spent nearly three and a half hours together. That was the longest amount of time he had spent with anyone not business related in he wasn’t sure how long.

They waited for the shuttle and got on, proving to be much less eventful than when they arrived. He drove her home, making small talk as he parked in her driveway. “I’ll walk you to your door,” he offered.

“Oh, no that’s okay.”

He could tell from her tone that it wasn’t that she was opposed, but more so didn’t want to inconvenience him. “I insist.” He hadn’t intended on sounding so authoritative about it, but sometimes that part of him slipped out. He walked to her and escorted her to her door, now that he knew which one it was.

“Thanks for coming with me. I had fun,” she smiled up at him, but for some reason it didn’t reach her eyes.

“I had a lovely time with you Belle.” He smiled, if only to reassure her further.

As she had done previously, she leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Thanks again.”

Before he could get a word in, she had opened the door and retreated inside. Like before, he could feel the kiss burning his cheek. If only he had moved, she would have missed her intended target…

He shook his head. No, he was not going to make the first move. She was not interested in dating as it was and he was not going to push it. If anything, he was hoping he was being dashing enough to make her reconsider the idea.

He walked back to his car and drove home, unable to stop himself from smiling every so often. She enjoyed her day with him. Him, of all people. She had enjoyed it and suggested it and had a good time.

When he arrived home, he noticed that he had a text. As he made his way inside he saw that it was from none other than his favorite brunette. It was a picture with a small text underneath it.

It was a picture of the rose he had gifted her in a small vase, sitting on a table. He noticed several books around it, almost as if she had tried to hide the mess, but couldn’t. The text read _It’s beautiful. Thank you._

Nothing but corny responses came to mind and she deserved more than a cliché response. As he thought on it he brought the clock he had purchased to his library, figuring there was no better spot for it. He set up the clock on a table, liking that he could see it from his chair every time he would sit to read. He took a picture of it and texted back, _Now we both have something to remember each other by._

Satisfied with his response, he put his phone down and began pouring himself a glass of scotch. It was five o’clock somewhere and he didn’t intend on going out. What he hadn’t anticipated was that Belle would text him back. When he heard the soft sound of the vibration, he thought he was hearing things. He sat back in his chair and saw that Belle had in fact texted him back.

_Is that your library??_

He smirked. He could practically hear the excitement in her voice. There was a bookcase behind the clock in the background of the picture, he should have known that would entice her.

_Part of it, yes._ He responded before taking a sip of his scotch.

_I am so jealous! Can you send me more pictures?_

He chuckled, deciding to have some fun. _Pictures hardly do it justice. If you want to see it, you’ll have to come over and see it in person._

It wasn’t entirely true as he had told her it was nothing fancy, but he had to know her response. He expected her to be surprised, but immediately turn down his offer, however gently. When his phone buzzed again, he was quick to read the text.

_It’s not nice to tease people._

He chuckled at her response. He knew she wouldn’t feel comfortable coming to the lair of the beast. _I’m serious. Unless you’re afraid of being alone with me, the offer stands._

It was unfair to word it that way, but he had to call her out. She was a brave one, his little minx, but he didn’t think she was that brave. He felt a buzz.

_I think I’ll take my chances. Does this Friday work for you, after work? You can show me one of the many restaurants I’ve been missing out on._

He had to re-read the text a few times before he had realized what she said. By now he should have learned that any challenge he proposed to her, she would rise to meet it and then some. He couldn’t let her have all the fun.

_Friday is great. I’ll do you one better. I’ll cook for you instead._

His culinary skills were getting rusty and if he admitted it, he missed cooking. Cooking for two would be nice, especially for Belle. There was a noticeable amount of time that went by before he received a response back.

_To what do I owe that honor?_

He could see her smile and hear the cheekiness in her voice at that response. How did he get to know her so well?

_Let’s just say it is something I would be looking forward to._

He knew that would make her happy. Indirectly he admitted to being excited over her coming over and cooking for her. He couldn’t outright say these things, but he knew she was smart. She would catch on fast, if she hadn’t already.

Her response was short and simple. _Me too._

He smiled as he sipped his scotch. Maybe making friends wasn’t so bad after all.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all had a nice holiday! Thanks again for all the comments and love. :)

To his surprise and delight, Belle had continued to text him on Sunday. It was simple conversation, fun even. He enjoyed hearing the buzz of his phone and eagerly waited for it to buzz every time. He felt slightly guilty. Now he knew why some people were glued to their phones. He would much rather text Belle than talk to anyone else.

Still, he went about his day doing the necessary chores, even doing his physical therapy for his knee when he was done. After dinner he sat in his library, gazing at the clock nearby. It was a very nice clock, he did admire the craftsmanship that went into it. It was also Belle’s favorite of the bunch, which made him smile slightly. He picked up his book and settled in to finish his night reading.

When he woke the next morning, he had little trouble getting out of bed, even though he hadn’t slept all that great. He went about his daily routine, getting his first morning coffee and then dressing himself in the usual suit and tie. He didn’t have court today, so his appearance didn’t matter as much.

The drive in was still dark, but none too congested or aggravating, especially for a Monday. Once he reached his office he sat, knowing he would have plenty of work to do since he didn’t come in Saturday. He would have to continue to stay late all week, except for Friday. Nothing could keep him there on Friday.

As the minutes passed he eagerly checked his watch, knowing Belle would walk in any second. Right on the dot she breezed in, his tea in her hands. “Morning Mr. Gold.” She looked more frenzied than usual, and her smile was genuine but rushed.

“Something wrong, Miss French?”

She waved him off. “Of course not. I just slept past my alarm on accident this morning and had to nearly run myself into work this morning.”

She continued to smile, as if it were no big deal. “If that ever happens again, as long as you let me know I’ll understand. But you have to let me know. I don’t want you breaking your leg trying to get here. You’re no use to me injured.” He tried to remain as even in his tone as possible, but he could see her eyes shine with understanding.

“Of course, Mr. Gold. Let’s hope there is no next time.”

“I appreciate your dedication to the job,” he said with a nod before he went back to his work, allowing her to go back to her desk. God, why did she have to be so professional? He truly admired it, but he wanted nothing more than to have a normal conversation with her in the office, other co-workers be damned. If he was honest, he wanted nothing more than to grab her at her own desk and kiss her until she forgot who she was. Mary Margaret might just faint, and the office would be abuzz with that juicy gossip.

Belle might also slap him, or curse him out. She was well mannered and reserved, but he couldn’t blame her for that kind of reaction to him assaulting her like that. She enjoyed his company enough and the idea that some people thought they were together didn’t disgust her, so he could hold onto that thread for as long as it took.

The hours flew by as he went through all of the work on his desk. There were stacks thanks to Belle, not that he could be upset about it. She made his life so much easier in so many ways. He was checking his email when he noticed the woman in his thoughts walked through his door and shut it. He also noticed she was holding her lunch bag. “Miss French?”

“I’m sorry,” she apologized as she walked towards him. “Mary Margaret told me that Gaston was coming up to this floor to meet with Mr. O’Malley and… I didn’t want to take any chances. Can I eat my lunch in here with you?”

He would love her to have lunch there, but he couldn’t seem too eager. “There is a lunch room downstairs, is there not?”

She bit her lip, uncertainty crossing her features, making him feel… sad? He didn’t want her to be uncomfortable, not with him. “I just… I was hoping to read, and the lunch room is a bit loud.” She held up her book which he hadn’t noticed before and it all clicked in his mind.

“Of course. Have a seat,” he nodded to the table and chairs he had set up in the corner of his office. She smiled wide, wasting no time to unpack her lunch and open her book. It didn’t take her long to lose herself in it. He could tell by the way her chewing slowed and she studied the pages with eagerness that she was fully taken by it. He could watch her reading any day. “What is it that you’re reading?”

She jumped at the sound of his voice, breaking out of her book reverie. She folded the book over her finger to show him the cover. “Her Handsome Hero. I’ve read it so many times, but it's my favorite.”

“Didn’t want to read anything more uplifting?” He rose an eyebrow at her.

“You’ve read it?” She sat up straighter.

“Of course,” he nodded. “It’s been a few years, but it’s not a book you can exactly forget.”

He should have known this would have launched her into a full discussion about the book and then the issues surrounding it. They were in depth discussing gender roles and stereotypes that neither noticed when Mary Margaret came in, clearing her throat to announce her presence.

“Mr. Gold, I have Ms. Marks on the phone, asking for you.” Although she was talking to him, she couldn’t help but glance over at Belle who was hastily collecting her things.

“Thank you Ms. Blanchard.”

He watched as Belle shuffled out, but not before he heard Mary Margaret’s hushed, “You’re eating lunch with him now? Are you crazy?”

He couldn’t help but smirk. He should’ve guessed she would oppose anything between them, or at the very least question it. Mary Margaret had seen him at his worst and knew what he was capable of. She would be right for trying to make Belle change her mind.

His phone rang, signaling another client to deal with. He sighed, knowing he would go the rest of his day without speaking to Belle.

\--

When Friday finally arrived, he was nervous and excited all in one. The week had passed by agonizingly slow, even the days he had court. He had planned dinner and picked up the necessary supplies last night after work. He knew he was going a bit on the fancy side, but it had been awhile since he cooked anything and he was excited for it.

He and Belle only talked in the mornings when she dropped off his tea and if she were dropping off files. It was always polite and professional, never veering into personal territory. He had told Belle this morning that he would pick her up at six-thirty, so that he could start dinner by seven. He insisted on picking her up so that she didn’t have to call an Uber, and she eventually relented. He promised her that she could take one back home, which appeased her.

It was six-twenty when he got into his car and started to drive to her place. He was a little eager, but didn’t want to come off as too eager. This wasn’t a date after all, only dinner among friends. When he arrived at her house he shut off the car and sent her a text that he was there. He walked to the door he knew was hers and waited.

She walked out, wearing a simple red sweater and jeans with boots, her hair clipped so it was only partly up. She smiled when she saw him and locked her door. “You really don’t have to come fetch me you know. I think I can figure out how to get to your car.”

“I can’t open the car door for you if I’m still inside, can I?”

She ducked her head, clearly trying to hide her blush. “You really are old school, aren’t you?”

He grinned, opening the passenger door for her. “You are a lady and I will treat you as such. Don’t tell me no man has ever opened the door for you?”

“Just you,” she said with a shy smile.

“Amateurs,” he joked as she got into his car.

He walked to the other side of his car, getting in and starting it to begin the drive to his house. The music was on, a quiet lull in the background. He noticed from his peripheral that she was fidgeting with her fingers. It reminded him of their first time alone in the elevator.

“Is something wrong?”

She immediately stopped fidgeting. “No, of course not.”

He bit back a smirk. “Dearie, I know when you’re lying. You were fretting over something. If you are having second thoughts, I can take you back home.” He really hoped that wasn’t the case, because he was really looking forward to it all week.

“No! That’s not it at all. I guess I’m just… out of my element.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “How so?”

There was a noticeable silence, enough for him to look over at her, finding her biting her lip. She was trying to decide what to tell him and at the same time not over share. “I’m not used to having guy friends. I guess I’m not used to this whole thing tonight either.”

She was making no sense, as far as he could tell. “It’s only dinner. I’ll admit it is fancier than I anticipated, but I was being a bit selfish and wanted to cook something nice for myself, too.”

“That’s just it. I’ve been taken out to dinner, but no one’s ever made me dinner. My ex-husband couldn’t boil water, let alone an entire meal. I’m used to cooking the dinner and planning everything. I guess I don’t know how to handle not being in charge of anything.”

He could feel his eyebrows rise. “You’re telling me your ex-husband never cooked for you? He didn’t even try?”

“No, never. I was always the one cooking.”

“How long were you married?”

“Five years.”

He gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Don’t tell me you were stuck with everything else too.”

“According to him, it was woman’s work.”

He scoffed and let out a string of curses. Belle began to laugh, causing him to turn to her in confusion.

“You go full on Scottish when you’re angry,” she noted between her giggles. “I have no idea what the hell you said.”

He cracked a smile, realizing that she was right. “Sorry, sometimes it gets away from me. He’s just an idiot, is all.”

“You don’t need to apologize. It was… enlightening. I’ve been told my accent comes out more when I’m tired. Or if I’ve been drinking a lot.”

“It’s been awhile since I’ve been properly drunk, but I’m not sure you’d be able to understand me if that were to happen.”

“I like it.”

He could feel a chuckle coming out. “Ye dinnae hae a choice, dearie. It’s nae goin' anywhere.” He intentionally put more of his accent into the sentence and her response was worth it. It seemed she liked his accent.

“What is for dinner tonight anyway?”

“I’m cooking us some filet mignon with some vegetables as a side. I hope that sounds okay to you.”

“That sounds very fancy. I guess I should have dressed up,” she joked.

“Nah, I was in the mood for something nice. It’s been awhile since I’ve cooked. It could be complete shite, in which case we will need to go out.”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t think we’ll need to do that.”

The familiar sounds of Led Zepplin filtered through the stereo, causing her to quickly change the station. “Don’t tell me you hate Led Zepplin.”

“No,” she said with the shake of her head. “It’s just… my father listened to them all the time, it’s one of his favorite bands.”

“Ah.” He could sense her fidgeting again. “You miss him, don’t you?”

“Is that bad? He practically threw me out, refuses to talk to me and he even called me a whore once, when I told him I was pregnant. But he’s my father, and I love him.” He could hear the sadness lacing her words and he knew, he somehow knew, that Belle was a very loving person. It was in her nature to hold on to that love, no matter how poisonous it was.

“I think that you two were very close and even though he has done some bad things, that he still loves you and in a twisted way, he did them out of love.”

She frowned. “We were so close. I ruined everything by keeping that baby. Will wanted me to get an abortion, you know.”

He wanted to be surprised, but he wasn’t. “He was a twenty year old guy that now had to face responsibilities. He wanted all the fun and none of the consequences.” He could sense that for some reason, she needed to talk it out. It crossed his mind that maybe she hadn’t let herself. “How did he react when you said no?”

“Not great,” she said with a hint of a fake smile. “He said I was ruining his life and mine. All of our friends were on his side. Some of them I know had had abortions previously, told me it was no big deal. When I told my parents, well… My mom cried, my dad called me a whore, and forced us to get married. Will was not happy about it. Then a month later I had a miscarriage and he was ecstatic. You’d have thought I told him he won the lottery.”

He deeply frowned, taking glances at Belle. She wasn’t crying, but she was definitely upset. “I take it that was when you realized your marriage wasn’t going to work.”

“Yeah, looking back I do. But I was hopeful that I could make it work, that everything would be great. He acted like it never happened, and it was all I thought about. I realized that I never did love him, not in the way that you think of when you’re married to someone. My father highly opposed divorce, but I was so unhappy I couldn’t live like that anymore. Until it was finalized, being home was a very hostile environment. My mum understood, she was always the levelheaded one.”

He couldn’t imagine this sweet woman next to him without the light in her eyes. She was always happy and cheerful and always a bright spot. He hated that someone had taken that away from her. “I’m sure your friends agree with me when I say that your ex-husband is an asshole.”

She laughed, and he was glad he could get her to lighten up. “My friends in Australia are his friends, they all took his side. I don’t talk to any of them anymore. My friends in Maine don’t know. I never told them.”

He tried to keep the surprise from his face. He was the only one of her friends that knew this? “Why haven’t you told them? I’m sure they would understand.”

“They would. It just never came up. It still hurt and I didn’t want to talk about it. They were all dating or having fun and I enjoyed being like them.”

“Then why tell me?”

“After you told me about your ex, I knew you would understand. I guess I just… I wanted someone who would understand.”

That statement hit him harder than he anticipated. She had confided in him because she knew he wouldn’t judge her. He knew what it felt like to lose something, even if it wasn’t planned, and to come out a failure in the end for it. This was why she wanted to be with him and talk to him. He understood her in a way that no one else had yet to do so. In turn, she understood him.

He knew anything he could say in response, nothing would do it justice. Instead he reached over with his right hand and grabbed a hold of her left hand, casually interlacing their fingers together and giving her a reassuring squeeze. He felt her squeeze back and keep their fingers tangled together.

Maybe Belle French saw him as more than a friend. Maybe, just maybe, there was something there that wasn’t there before.

 


	9. Chapter 9

Gold opened the door to his home, turning on the one light in the kitchen and let Belle inside first. “Take your shoes off if you like. If you’d rather keep them on, that’s okay too.” 

She seemed to watch him as he continued to the kitchen, not taking his own shoes off, before she decided to slide her boots off and leave them by the door. “I’ll give you the grand tour in just a second.” He pulled out the filets and set them on the counter. “These need to sit out for a bit and then I’ll start cooking.” 

She nodded, taking in the kitchen. “Don’t you have any more lights? It’s a bit dark in here.” He pointed to the light switch, allowing her to turn on the rest of the lights in the kitchen, brightening it a fair amount. “That’s better.” 

“As you might have guessed, this is my kitchen.” He gestured to the space he spent rare amounts of time in. 

“It’s got so much room. I guess compared to mine, anything is huge.” 

He walked towards the next room, which was the dining area. “Here is the formal dining area.” He walked into the hallway and gestured to the two rooms on either side. “Two living areas. As you can see, one doubles as my office.” One had a loveseat and a modest television, with one night stand and a rug. The other had a nice desk with a computer and papers everywhere, along with filing cabinets. 

“You weren’t kidding. It’s really the bare minimum in here. You don’t even have any pictures.” 

He looked around, knowing she was correct. “I’m not quite sure I have any pictures to hang up.” He walked to the stairs leading up, and pointed at the door in the hallway. “That goes downstairs. It’s unfinished, dull, and a bit cold. The bathroom I’m sure you saw when we walked in by the garage. Up here are the bedrooms.” 

He started his way up knowing it probably took him longer than it did Belle, who patiently followed behind. “All right. Full bath straight ahead. In here is my third bedroom and storage space.” He flicked on the light, showing a random assortment of boxes and clothing neatly placed around. 

He walked across the hall, flicking on the light to his room. “This is my bedroom. Full bath connected to the left.” He noticed she seemed to eye this room more than the others. As if she were trying to imagine him in it. There was not much else to see besides the bed, nightstand and small dresser. 

“Last but not least…” he walked down the hall and switched on a light. “The library.” 

He watched as her eyes lit up when she walked in. The room was a good size, especially since it was meant to be a bedroom. There was a warm light from the ceiling and another he turned on that stood by his chair. There were two chairs in the room, separated by a nightstand, and a coffee table in front of them that held the clock. Otherwise, the walls were covered in bookshelves. He only had one actual bookshelf, as he felt it took up too much space. The walls, from floor to ceiling, had shelves he had mounted and secured to maximize the space and weight the books would surely create. 

“This is wonderful.” He watched as she glided her fingers over the spines of the books, committing his collection to memory. The look of pure content on her face thrilled him deep inside. She felt a great peace in this room. His library. 

“You are always welcome here. If you ever feel like getting away, my door is always open.” She turned to him with a wide smile and continued to search the books. 

“You will never get me to leave! You have an amazing collection. There are so many different books here. What are you going to do when you fill them up?” 

There was one section that still had a bit of room, where he put any new book he bought. “I have been trying to buy e-books, but I love having the physical copy. I haven’t figured out what I’ll do when I fill this room up. I suppose I’ll have to turn my storage area into another library, or convert the basement.” 

“Can you imagine a whole basement library all your own?” He heard her sigh, earning a grin from him. Perhaps, if they ever did become more than friends, he would convert his basement into a library for her as a gift. He had always meant to do something about the drab space, anyway. 

She circled around, noticing the clock they had bought at the festival. “It looks perfect here. I’m a little surprised it’s the only piece of decoration in your entire house.”

He shrugged. “I’m a minimalist.” 

“It has so much potential.” 

He chuckled, leading her out of the library. “What would you do with it, since there is so much potential?” 

She blushed. “If it were just me, I would have pictures up of my friends and family. Maybe some flowers here and there, pieces of art that are fun, or pictures of where I’ve been. Rugs to cheer everything up, I’d have blankets in the living area and of course the bed, I’m a bit of a sucker for a fluffy soft blanket.” 

He made his way downstairs, able to envision the type of potential she saw. “You’re hired,” he teased, earning a giggle from her. He made his way back to the kitchen, pulling out a bottle of red wine. “Is this all right with you? I have others, if you like.” 

“That looks perfect, thank you.” 

He poured them each a glass, sliding hers over across the counter. “I also have dessert later, if you’re up to it.” 

Her face lit up as she took a sip of her wine. “You sure do know how to spoil someone. I’m not sure if I should tell you this, but most friends aren’t this friendly.” 

He gulped down his wine, hoping, no, praying that she didn’t’ realize what she had just said. “Maybe you’ve never had the right friends.” 

“Apparently not!” She giggled, swirling the wine in her glass. “This is really good.” 

He nodded. “It is one of my favorites. Off of a vineyard in California.” 

She hummed in response as she stared around his kitchen. “It’s quiet out here. Do you think you could turn on some music or something?” 

“Of course.” He walked away to his living area and turned on the speakers and the radio. He turned it up a bit so they could hear it in the kitchen. When he walked back, he found her reading the wine bottle. “How is that?” 

She jumped and set the bottle down as if she weren’t supposed to be touching it. “Lovely, thank you. I’m one of those people known to have something on in the background. Music, TV…” 

“And I’m always in complete silence,” he said with a smirk. “This house could use some noise every now and again.” 

She smiled and he could see her shoulders ease. “Do you need any help with dinner?” 

“Nope. You sit back and relax. I’m going to start now. I’m a bit hungry it seems.” As if on queue his stomach began to grumble, earning a laugh from her. 

“Okay. I’ll be here if you need anything.” 

He took off his suit jacket and set it on a hook by the door and rolled up his sleeves, in case anything were to get dirty. He got to work chopping up the vegetables, watching as she idly watched him as he prepared dinner. He went to work pan searing the filets before he set them in the oven to cook a bit longer, then he worked on sautéeing the vegetables. He grabbed plates for them, casually dumping equal portions of the vegetables on them before he took out the filets and checked their temperature. 

It was exactly where he wanted them, so he shut off the oven and plated a filet on each plate. He grabbed the silverware, asked Belle to grab his wine and follow him to the dining room. He set down their plates as she set down their wine glasses and he, like the gentleman he was, pulled out her chair. 

She blushed at the gesture and took her seat as he helped push her in. He loved that blush, he wanted to see more of it. They began cutting into their filets and he watched her take the first bite. “Oh, Rum, this is delicious.” 

He grinned, taking a bite of his own and finding it perfect. “I’m glad you like it.” 

She took another bite, moaning slightly as she did. “Mm. I love it. Where did you learn to cook?” 

He sipped his wine and shrugged. “My parents sure as hell weren’t going to cook for me. Milah… she could cook, but she despised it. I was tired of eating shite food, so I read up on cooking and read plenty of cookbooks and did a lot of trial and error. I found that I rather enjoy it, it has a soothing effect on me.” 

“I could tell,” she commented. “You were like another person while you were cooking. You seemed so sure of everything, very… content.” 

He smiled at her word choice. “It’s much more enjoyable to cook for someone else than just myself. I haven’t cooked in a while, I don’t really see the point in one person meals.” 

“You can cook for me anytime.” 

He hoped that he could cook for her many more times. They finished their meal and for the first time in forever, he put everything in his dishwasher. “You know I rarely have a chance to use this. I guess I’ll see if it actually works or not.” 

“I wish I had a dishwasher. I have to wash everything by hand, and it drives me nuts.” 

“I have a dishwasher and I wash everything by hand because the dishwasher is more of a pain in my ass,” he remarked, earning a smirk and head shake from her. 

“You poor man, having to use a dishwasher. I feel so bad for you.” 

His jaw dropped at her playful tone. “You poor woman, having to ruin your dainty hands by scrubbing dishes,” he retorted, earning a surprised look from her. He hadn’t anticipated that she would throw one of her uneaten pieces of broccoli at him. 

“Did you just—” before he could complete his sentence, she left the scene of the crime, no doubt knowing he would throw back more in revenge. “You little minx!” He chuckled, following the direction she left in. “I’ll get you for that.” 

He stood at the base of the stairs, then at the entrance of each living area. He started to go into his makeshift home office before he noticed her try and dash out of the true living area. Somehow he was faster as he caught her around the waist, pulling her to him. “Gotcha.” 

She let out a surprised squeal, making half-hearted attempts to get away from him as she wriggled in his arm. “I didn’t mean to,” she tried to plead, but she turned around in his arms as if she could push herself from him, but one look at his smirk and she couldn’t contain her laughter. 

“I think you did.” He continued smirking, looking into her eyes that held laughter and happiness and fun. She stopped trying to get free of him and instead seemed content pulled up against him. He could feel the fullness of her breasts against his chest, how firm her body was against his, and how her eyes grew darker the longer he held her gaze. 

He could see her gulp as her eyes lowered to his lips and he knew immediately what she was thinking. He didn’t want her to make any rash decisions, especially because he knew that after a long while the close proximity of anyone of the opposite sex could be enticing. 

Instead, he could hear the song _Into the Mystic_ start to play from the speakers and he said, “Care to dance?” 

She blinked and he could see her come to the same realization of what she was going to do. He set his cane down and took her hand and waist, slowly leading them into a dance as the song started. 

She settled against him, her arm on his shoulder as they started to sway back and forth. He stared into her eyes and she stared into his and for the first time he felt as if someone could see right through him. It burnt him deep into his core and radiated warmth throughout his body. She smiled at him, a warm, sweet smile that hadn’t seen from her before. 

He couldn’t help but smile back at her as they danced around his hallway. As the song continued he let her go so that she could twirl and come back to him, swaying once again. The song wasn’t quite finished when she seemed to stop and stare at him, her eyes clear and certain. Like so many times before it happened before he realized it. 

She leaned up and placed a soft kiss on his lips, before she pulled back ever so slightly, opening her eyes to see what his reaction was. 

He was surprised, more than anything. He was surprised, nervous, excited and overall thrilled. He could see the worry in her eyes, as if she had misinterpreted everything that had happened. Before she could pull away and regret what she had done, he let his lips claim hers and pulled her close, so that there was no confusion. 

He could feel her arms go around his neck, trying to deepen the kiss. Her fingers were in his hair and her tongue was meeting his in the sweetest kiss he’d ever had. When they finally broke apart she sighed. Her lips were more plump than before, her cheeks were red and her eyes were filled with lust. When their eyes met, she couldn’t contain her smile and she looked away, not out of embarrassment, but shyness. 

His fingers found her chin and gently turned it so that she could look at him again. “You are so beautiful, Belle.” He tried to say the words with as much honesty as he could muster. Every bit of it was the truth. The woman in his arms was beautiful. Inside and out. 

“Rum, I…” She bit her lip and blushed again. 

“There’s no need to be shy,” he said with a smile. 

“I want you,” she admitted. 

He grinned. “I think it’s apparent that the feeling is mutual.” 

She grinned and chewed her lip again. “No, I… I don’t want to be that girl, but whatever this is, whatever I’m feeling. I haven’t felt like this before and it’s exciting and lovely and…I want you in a way that, well…” 

She ducked her head again, but not before the deep blush he saw on her cheeks. Oh. She wanted him. “You mean that you want to…” His eyes gestured upstairs, as he wasn’t quite sure how to put it. When she nodded, as if she were embarrassed about it he tried to smile reassuringly. “I wouldn’t think of you badly at all. I would be remiss if I said that I haven’t thought about it. It’s a big step, Belle. After something like that, it would never be the same between us.” 

“I know.” She pulled away from him, only to stand on the bottom step of the staircase. She was leaving this up to him, then. She was clear-headed, she knew exactly what she was getting herself into, and she stared at him as if she couldn’t see anyone else but him. They had been dancing around each other for weeks. 

He grabbed her hand without another word and followed her upstairs. When they met in his room she wasted no time meeting him in a kiss. It was slow and sweet, taking its time as her hands traveled down his chest. He could feel her undoing the buttons of his shirt, one by one, until the last one was done. She slowly pushed it off of his shoulders and he let it sink to the floor. Her hands were against his chest as they surveyed his now bare skin. 

He let his hands roam underneath her sweater, drawing lazy circles on her lower back before sliding higher as his lips found hers again.

“I want you,” she managed to say breathily between his kisses. He wasn't going to waste this moment. He was going to take his time and savor her with every fiber of his being.

-

He headed to the bathroom to take care of the mess he created. When he came back to the bedroom, he found she was still in bed and laid next to her. “Everything ok?” 

Her head turned to him with a lazy, satisfied smile. “I tried to get up, but uh… my legs wouldn’t cooperate and… I don’t think I could walk straight at the moment.” 

He grinned from ear to ear. “That’s what I was going for.” 

She curled next to him, resting her head on his chest as she looked up at him. “I…I’ve never… not so many times in one day…” 

He grinned, loving the way her skin was perfectly flushed. If anyone were to see her, there was no way she didn’t look thoroughly fucked. “I am a selfish man, but I am not a selfish lover.” 

She bit her lip to keep herself from giggling, but then he noticed her face turn serious. “Rum, I… What now?” 

He started running his hands through her wild hair, earning shivers from her. “What do you mean?” 

“We can’t just be friends anymore. I wasn’t looking to date, but I really enjoy being with you.”

“We can be whatever you want,” he decided for her. He wasn’t sure if she was nervous that he wouldn’t want to put a label on them. 

“Can we just be us, without any labels, and see where that takes us?” 

He could understand her apprehension on getting involved with anyone. It hadn’t worked well for her in the past, nor had it worked for him. “Of course, my dear.”

She smiled and snuggled closer to him. “How about we get under the covers? I’m a bit tired. Unless… I can go home, if you want.” 

He could tell she didn’t want to overstep her boundaries. He got up and pulled the covers back. “I’m a bit tired as well. You wore me out.” 

She smiled shyly and slid into his bed with him next to her. He could feel her warmth surrounding him and her hair tickling his arm. He grinned and kissed the top of her head, knowing he would want nothing more than this moment. For the first time in months, he fell asleep quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know we don't see her POV, but I see Belle as knowing what she wants and going for it. I liked the idea of her being the one to kind of take charge and do it her way. Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! Things will come more into focus...


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First I'd just like to say sorry for the letdown last chapter. I wasn't happy with what I had written and I just didn't like it so I left out the smutty bits. I honestly thought no one would mind, now I know for next time I'll just leave it! I feel like I'm still getting the hang of posting on here, so these things are good to know. You live and you learn! Hope I haven't chased too many of you away to finish this out. Only one more chapter left after this.

When he woke up the next morning Belle was no longer cuddled next to him, but on her side on the other side of the bed. She was facing him, still sound asleep. She looked beautiful even though her hair was a mess and her mouth hung open slightly. He could imagine waking up to her every day and smiled. For the first time, he didn't feel panicked about having to kick someone out, let someone down, or worry they would try and come back. Both of them wanted to be themselves and that was that.

He wanted her to sleep in. He wanted her to eat breakfast with him, enjoy the day together and do it all over again. He liked her company, more than anyone else ever, he realized. Even when he thought he loved her, he didn't want to be around Milah all the time. Belle was smart and funny and he felt he could talk with her about anything without it ending in a huge fight.

He looked at the clock, seeing he was up about his normal time, although he felt more rested than he had in a long time. He slowly got out of bed, careful not to wake her as he looked around the room. He noticed his under shirt from the night before and pulled it on. He wasn't sure where everything else was, so he decided to go downstairs in his shirt and boxers.

He heard the radio in the living room, still on from the night before. He had realized that they had been so hasty in their efforts they never cleaned up dinner either. Instead of being annoyed he smirked. There would be few things that would upset him after the night he had.

He turned off the radio and cleaned up, trying to be as quiet as possible. He had brewed himself some coffee before sitting at the kitchen island with his newspaper. He still liked reading the newspaper every morning, it always felt like a natural start to the day.

He was about done with the paper when he heard someone coming down the stairs. He turned to the doorway, seeing Belle shyly come around the corner wearing his dress shirt from the night before. “I didn't want to put my clothes back on and this seemed much more comfortable, but I can change if you want.”

Even though he was short, she was shorter, and it still hung long on her, but not enough to hide her lovely legs. He couldn't help but grin. “Good morning, beautiful.” She blushed and walked towards him so that she could sit beside him, but instead he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to him, placing a soft kiss on her mouth.

She pulled away immediately. “No! I have horrible morning breath.”

He chuckled and held her close. “Trust me dearie, I'm not thinking about your breath while you look the way you do in my shirt.”

She looked away as the blush spread across her cheeks. “If only everyone knew you were such a charmer.”

“So you find me charming?” She broke away from his hold to sit next to him, giving him a knowing grin, but refused to say more. “I'm afraid all I've got is coffee. If I had known you'd be here in the morning I'd have prepared better.”

“No worries. I can live one morning without my tea.”

He nodded, getting up to move to his fridge. “I haven't eaten yet. All I've got is some eggs for breakfast, unless you want to go out.”

“Eggs are fine, really you don't have to make me anything.”

He pulled out the carton and set it on the counter. “Nonsense. Next time I promise a whole spread for breakfast.”

“Next time?”

He stopped, realizing he was being presumptuous. He glanced at her, seeing she was holding back a grin. “Cheeky wench,” he said with a smirk, earning a laugh from her as he began taking out a pan. “How do you like your eggs?”

She shrugged. “However you want yours is fine, I'm not picky.”

“Over easy it is,” he decided as he began heating the pan. “Did you sleep well?” He asked as he began cracking eggs.

“Oh, yes. Your bed is very comfortable. Between that and the library and you cooking for me, I might never leave.”

“Be my guest,” he said as he gestured around him. “We've already established it's too much space for me.” He was partially kidding, but he wouldn't mind if she moved in that weekend and stayed forever. There were worse things than cohabiting with a beautiful woman.

She laughed. “You would be sick of me in a week.”

He bit back a smirk. He highly doubted it, but he wasn't going to tell her that. “Guess we'll never know.”

Her head bobbed in response as her eyes drifted around the kitchen, stopping at his refrigerator. “Is that a wedding invitation?”

He nodded, knowing she was eyeing the only piece of paper that adorned his refrigerator. “Miss Blanchard and Mr. Nolan's.”

“Are you going?”

He turned to her with confusion. “Of course. Like I said, Mr. Nolan is the closest thing I have to a friend.”

She shrugged. “It doesn't seem like your thing, is all. You know, she invited me too. We could go together.”

His brow lifted. “Have you cleared that with Miss Blanchard first?” He teased.

She rolled her eyes. “We're both going anyway. I was surprised I got an invite, it's only a few weeks away and we've just met.”

He looked at the eggs and decided they were done, carefully loading them onto plates. “I suspect she had a lot of vacancies. I know Mr. Nolan's family doesn't approve of the union.”

She frowned as he put her eggs in front of her. “Why? Maggie is so sweet.”

He bit his lip as he slid into the seat next to her. “I take it they never told you about how they met.”

She took a bite of her egg. “At the office. I didn't think office relationships were banned?”

“They're not,” he said as he shook his head. “However David was thought to have been happily married when they met.”

Belle's jaw dropped. “No. She would never sleep with a married man. She's always talking about true love and the sanctity of marriage.”

He chuckled. That was definitely Mary Margaret. “Apparently when its true love it doesn't matter if you're married to someone else,” he quipped.

She was completely flabbergasted and he had a hard time not laughing at her. “She never mentioned it.”

“They're not proud of it,” he offered as he ate his eggs. “They tried hard not to act on it. His wife eventually found out and filed for divorce. It was quite a year for them. Everyone at the office knew and I was the only one who would talk to him without judgment for awhile. I'm not sure why, its not like some of them were innocent, hypocritical little shites they are.”

“His family must have loved his first wife then.”

“Aye,” he agreed. “They're not very nice to Mary Margaret. She dreads holidays for that reason.” He almost felt sorry for her. She was a lovely person by nature.

“Hm.” She continued eating her eggs, contemplating this new information. “You must know a lot of secrets at work.”

He smirked. “I might have a penchant for the truth,” he admitted.

“There is one that even Maggie doesn't know and she seems to know everyone's business.”

He sifted through his memories, wondering which one she could be referring to. “And you would like to know, is that it?”

She blushed and he knew she was embarrassed to partake in idle gossip. “I've witnessed it firsthand, but she was telling me all of the things Gaston has gotten away with and anywhere else I've worked he would've been fired by now. Why does he keep getting away with it?”

He finished his eggs and pushed his plate away. “I wouldn’t be surprised if I was the only one in the office who knew why, besides HR. I'm not entirely proud of why I know. Please keep it to yourself.”

“Of course,” she nodded as she finished her eggs.

“When I moved here almost twenty years ago, I was in the New York City office. That is where Cora and Henry Mills offices are, the head of Mills and Mills. I was fresh from my divorce and Cora and Henry were having trouble. Cora was older and quite persuasive. We started having an affair.” He noticed Belle's lips press together. He wasn't sure if it was in disgust or surprise. “She was using me to get back at her husband. She found out that a few years prior he had gotten some woman pregnant and never told her. That child was Gaston.”

Belle's eyebrows shot up in surprise. “But Gaston's last name isn't Mills.”

He nodded. “Henry really wanted a son, but all he had with Cora were daughters. She told him that he could fund Gaston's education and he could work in the company at any other office as long as no one knew he was a Mills. He can't be fired, no matter how many complaints they receive. A lot of women have been paid off.”

“Does he know?”

He stood, walking around to put away their plates. “Oh he knows. Why do you think he's such an ass?”

She stifled a laugh. “That's good to know. I never would have guessed. Is that why you came to this branch?”

He shrugged. “I wasn't lying when I said I hated the city, but that did play a part in it. Cora got bored of me. If you think she's a bitch normally, you should see how she is when she's an ex-lover.”

Belle cringed. “I've never met her.”

“Count yourself lucky.” He limped around the counter, nodding upstairs. “I need to shower. Feel free to lounge about.”

A grin slid across her face. “I think you'll need some help, don't you?”

He arched a brow at her and smirked. “You will be the death of me.”

–

He stared at his closet wearing only a towel. The only thing he had to wear were his suits or the one pair of dress khaki pants he owned. He surveyed the room, seeing Belle had left the dress shirt she had worn on his bed, most likely having no idea where he wanted it.

He smiled at the thought of her. He had been worried that last night had been a one time thing. She had an itch and had chosen him to scratch it, not that he was complaining. When she propositioned him he wasn't quite sure he could go again so soon, but having her naked in front of him did things to him. Naked _and_ eager to have sex with him. Before last night it had been a long time since he had such excitement.

By the time they showered to clean themselves he didn't think he could preform for the rest of the day, if not part of tomorrow. Then he watched as the water cascaded down her body, how she looked at him under her eyelashes asking for him to wash her back and his body betrayed him again. He tried to hide it, but she saw it as a challenge and instead showed him what she could do with her mouth.

Before last night he thought for sure that he was slowing down in that department. There was something about Belle French that set his blood on fire and went straight to his cock. He felt like he was hitting puberty again. For the life of him he couldn't figure out why she had chosen him, but he wasn't going to question it. He was going to enjoy it before the man of her dreams came along, as they always did.

He settled on a pair of slacks and a button down shirt. At the very least he could be less formal and not wear a suit jacket. He had no idea how long Belle planned to stay, but he had a feeling that he wouldn't be going into work today. He walked out the door, wondering if she was hovering by his front door waiting for an Uber to take her home. He checked his watch, seeing that it was almost eleven.

He started to walk to see if she was indeed downstairs waiting, but as he passed his library he noticed something. He stopped and looked in, finding her curled up on one of his chairs with a book in her lap. He couldn't help but smile at the sight. She looked very comfortable there, almost as if she belonged.

“Couldn't help yourself?”

She jumped and turned to him with a sheepish smile. “To be fair, I did tell you it was going to be hard to get me to leave.”

He shrugged. “What did you choose?”

She held it up. “Flowers for Algernon. I've always wanted to read it but never have.”

He settled into the opposite chair. “Do you read anything that isn't sad?”

“Of course,” she laughed. “This one is also short, so I figured it wouldn't take long.”

She had to be a fast reader, given how many books she seemed to go through. He picked up his own book, something on antiques, and opened it. “Don't let me stop you,” he said as he gestured for her to continue.

She grinned and settled back into the chair.

–

They had read for a few hours before he made them some lunch—a meager peanut butter and jelly sandwich-- before she took an Uber home. She refused his offers to drive her home, not wanting to put him out. She kissed him goodbye—on the lips this time—and left.

He stood in his foyer, looking around at the quiet and empty house. He had always enjoyed being in solitude, but now he felt alone. What if she wanted to come by next weekend too? He set to work on a shopping list of necessary ingredients for food for the week. Things he could use as a back up, things he could freeze in the mean time and things that wouldn't spoil. He couldn't keep serving her toast or eggs every morning.

If there was a next time he would be even more prepared.

 


	11. Chapter 11

It was Monday and he was nervous about seeing Belle. How was she going to act? He knew she would remain professional, but he wasn't sure he could act like that's all they were when she was in the room. He eyed the clock on his computer, watching as it turned to seven forty-five. When she promptly walked in, he tried to look busy.

“Ah, Miss French. Thank you,” he nodded as she set down his tea with a smile. “How was the rest of your weekend?”

He knew damn well how it was. They had texted throughout the day yesterday, which put him in an unusually good mood.

“It was relaxing. How was yours?”

There was a twinkle in her eye as she asked because she had known exactly how his weekend was, too. “I worked a bit, but other than that I was relaxing as well.”

She nodded. “Is there anything else you needed Mr. Gold?” She raised an eyebrow at him, playing the part of innocent paralegal.

Damn her. “No, that will be all.” He smiled as she walked out, trying hard not to stare at how lovely her ass looked in her skirt and the way her legs looked in heels. He knew she would look lovely in only the heels.

He cursed himself and shook his head. He did not mix work and pleasure. He needed to keep Belle at home and not think about her at work. He had work to do and he couldn't let everyone know what kind of power she had over him. He had an inkling that she already knew.

By the time lunch rolled around he didn't know how he was going to survive. Belle would casually drop in, leaving files and picking up ones that needed work. He kept walking out to see her at her desk to ask her questions that he could have called her for. Once Mary Margaret started giving him suspicious glances he would call Belle into his office so that she could help him figure out the new system or make him another cup of tea.

He was on his third of the day.

When he walked out again he turned his attention to his secretary. “Miss Blanchard, do you know if Mr. Nolan is busy?”

She looked up in confusion. “He doesn't have anyone coming in if that's what you mean.”

“Great, thank you.” He glanced at Belle who kept her focus on her computer as she typed away, paying him no mind at all. Maybe she didn't feel anything for him at all. Maybe she saw him as a friend with benefits and nothing more.

He shook his head of that thought and walked down the hall to David's office, seeing his door was open. He knocked, causing the younger attorneys head to snap to the door. “Mr. Gold. Come in.”

He could sense the confusion on David's face. David always sought him out, never the other way around. He shut the door and watched as David sat up straighter. He sat in one of the chairs wondering how he was going to go about this conversation. “I need your help.”

“Of course. What do you need?” He almost laughed at his serious expression. He was always willing to be the good guy.

“First I need your discretion that what I say will not leave this office.”

He nodded. “Absolutely.”

He sighed, feeling his shoulders sag as he did so. “I don't think I can keep this up.”

David's eyebrows furrowed. “I'm sorry... I'm not quite following.”

“Belle stayed the night the other night and now that we're at work its all professional and I can't do it. I don't want to be professional around her, but I can't embarrass her like that. What if she doesn't like me and just wants some fun?”

David's lips slowly turned into a grin. “She stayed the night, huh?”

His lips thinned. “David, that's not the point.”

His friend laughed. “If it's any consolation, I think she does like you. At the very least she's not embarrassed, or she wouldn't have told Maggie about it.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Mary Margaret knows?”

David grinned wide. “After the millionth time you kept bothering Belle for no reason she didn't have any good defense other than the truth. You know Maggie has an eye for these things.”

He should have known she'd sniff out the truth. He had been way too obvious. “So Belle wasn't embarrassed? She was happy?” He had some hope yet.

David tried to fight his grin. “I've never seen you like this over someone, Gold.”

“Answer the question.”

“If I had to guess, I would say she is interested. Shouldn't you be talking to _her_ about this?”

He sighed. “I agreed to not label whatever it is we are. I don't need to, but it is harder than I thought to not keep it strictly business.”

“Hmm,” he murmured. “You can still be what you want and let everyone draw their own conclusions. They will anyway.”

He had a point. They could be in love and everyone might still think she was sleeping her way through. “I'll have to talk to her. She's better than I am at keeping this a secret. I've never... about anyone.”

David grinned. “True love will do that.”

He shook his head and stood. “It's a bit early for that.”

“When you know, you know,” he shrugged. As Gold walked out the office he said, “Tell my future wife I'd like to take her out to lunch.”

He rolled his eyes and nodded. “Sure.”

He walked back down the hall to his office, seeing Mary Margaret was still sitting at her desk. Belle was standing at hers, talking to a young man who's name he didn't know. He was one of the paralegals down the hall. Belle smiled but was overall disinterested, which had him biting back a smirk.

He walked up to Mary Margaret, earning a small smile from her. “Mr. Nolan would like to take you to lunch.” Her grin widened as she shot out of her chair and began to gather her things.

He could hear Belle still talking to the young man. They were talking about her being new and which places, specifically bars, she had been to. He tensed as he deliberately walked slower to his office. And then he heard it.

“Are you busy Thursday? I can take you out to this one bar that just opened up, it has some great pub food.”

His teeth clenched and he halted, telling himself to breathe.

“Thanks for the offer, but I'm just not interested in going to bars,” came Belle's gentle response. He could feel himself loosen at her words. It wasn't that he didn't trust her, but this man was younger, without a limp and not terribly unattractive.

“Oh,” came his dejected response. “That's cool, I get it. We could do something else. Would you rather go out to dinner?”

Gold shook his head. Nope. He couldn't do it. If everyone knew the truth they would stay away and Belle wouldn't be bothered anymore. He wouldn't have to endure this anymore. Before Belle could respond he turned around with a smile for her. “Belle, I forgot to give you something this morning.”

She looked at him with confusion and the young man looked annoyed at the intrusion. “What did you forget?”

He threw caution to the wind and walked up to her, one of his hands cradling the back of her neck as his lips found hers in a brief but passionate kiss. He pulled away slightly. “That.”

She looked slightly dazed as a blush tinted her cheeks. He turned to the young man who's eyes were now wide. “Oh.”

Gold grinned. “Yes. I'm glad you understand now.” He turned to his office, noticing Mary Margaret's shocked and still form. He nodded his head to her. “Have a good lunch Miss Blanchard.”

He retreated to his office and shut the door, letting out a large breath. What had he been thinking? So many people had been around and all of them had no doubt seen it. Even if she wasn't embarrassed before, it didn't mean she wanted everyone to know. He had likely ruined her image and possibly her life. She had every right to be upset with him.

He heard the door open and close quietly. When he turned around he saw his petite brunette. “Belle, I'm so sor-”

Before he could get the words out she had pulled him down for a forceful kiss. When she pulled away he blinked in surprise and confusion. “Why did you do it?”

Of all the things he had expected her to say, it wasn't that. “Honestly? I've wanted to do it all morning. I know we're not... you know, but I didn't like the idea of no one knowing that you were mine. Even if you aren't, because we're not... I was a little jealous, all right?”

He looked into her blue eyes filled with understanding, not anger, which confused him. Shouldn't she be angry? “I think everyone will know now.”

“Right.” He ducked his head. Her tone was even and he couldn't tell if she was going to put an end to whatever they were. “I didn't mean for that to happen. I didn't want to embarrass you in front of everyone. I apologize.”

“Why do you think you embarrassed me?”

He almost laughed until he saw the seriousness in her eyes. “You're beautiful and sweet. I'm older and cranky and some might say in a position of power. They might not think so well of you. They might not think so well of me, either, not that they had before. I promised I would let this be whatever you wanted and by kissing you like that, I took that away from you.”

“I don't care what anyone thinks of me.” She bit her lip and he noticed her fidgeting. “What do you want this to be?”

She wasn't looking at him, but at the floor. He mentally kicked himself. He had ruined everything. “I know you don't want to date and I respect that. Honestly I wasn't looking for it either. Once I started to get to know you I knew there was something there, at least on my end. In my head I've been courting you, hoping that someday you'd want more. This weekend was more than I could have hoped for.”

“You didn't really answer the question.”

He hoped she hadn't noticed, but of course she did. It was Belle, after all. “I want you to be mine,” he simply answered. “And I want to be yours. Forever, if I was lucky enough,” he added with a slight smile. He had already ruined everything, there was no point in hiding it anymore.

“I want kids,” she blurted, earning a confused look from him.

“I know, you've said.”

She frowned, her eyes falling the the floor again. “You said you were too old to have kids and that ship sailed for you.”

“Aye, I did say that.” He remembered that date. It would always be a good memory for him.

She sighed. “I like you, I think that's obvious, but I haven't giving up on having kids. That ship hasn't sailed for me yet.”

Oh. He couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. “Is that it?”

Her eyebrows furrowed and she huffed. “What do you mean 'is that it'? It's a pretty big thing, Rum.”

He couldn't help himself, he chuckled. “I still think I'm too old to have kids, but if it doesn't bother you then it doesn't bother me. Belle, I'd give you ten children if that's what you wanted. If you were to tell me that I was going to be a father, I'd be thrilled. A little confused as to how it happened so fast, but happy nonetheless.” Was that what she had been afraid of this whole time?

A small smile appeared on her lips. “Really?”

“Yes,” he laughed. “I'm not afraid of having kids. Seeing you pregnant with my child would be a joy.”

Her cheeks turned red. “This is good to know.”

He reached out to stroke her cheek with a smile. “I love you. I've been too much of a coward to say it.”

She smiled, leaning into his palm. “I love you too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end at last! Thanks to all who have been reading and to those who have left kudos/comments, it's been fun! I've got so many other ideas, I hope to be posting another soon. :)


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